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THE 



YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR; 



OR„ 



SKETCHES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



OP 



THE DUTIES AND DANGERS 



OF 



YOUNG MEN. 



DESIGNED TO BE A GUIDE TO SUCCESS IN THIS LIFE, AND TO 
HAPPINESS IN THE LIFE WHICH IS TO COME. 



BY REV. DANIEL WISE, A. M., 

AUTHOR OF "THE PATH OF LIFE," " BRIDAL GREETINGS," " LIFE OF 
ZUINGLL," ETC. ETC. 



NINTH THOUSAND. 



^ID-Work: 

PUBLISHED BY CARLTON & PHILLIPS, 

200 Mulberry-street. 
1852. 







Entered according to Act of Congress, La the year 1550, 

Br Daniel Wise, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 



6 

Copy.. 



1 3 9 6 N 

JUL 8 2 



s$r&©iEin? ! H 3 E®Mo 



TUE YOUNG MEN 0¥ AMERICA 

©Jig ^§©u 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
V THEIR SINCERE FRIFND AND WELL-WISHER, 

DANIEL WISE. 





PREFACE. 



I love to look upon a young man. There 
is a hidden potency concealed within his 
breast which charms and pains me. I si- 
lently ask, what will that youth accomplish 
in the after-time of his life ? Will he take 
rank with the benefactors or with the 
scourges of his race? Will he, ere while, 
exhibit the patriotic virtue of Hampden 
and Washington, or the selfish craftiness 
of Benedict Arnold? If he have genius, 
will he consecrate it, like Milton and Mont- 
gomery, to humanity and religion ; or, like 
Moore and Byron, to the polluted altars of 
passion? If he have mercantile skill, will 
he employ it, like Astor or Girard, to grat- 
ify his lust of wealth; or to elevate and 
bless humanity, like some of our living 
merchant princes ? If the gift of eloquence 
be hidden in his undeveloped soul, will he 

use it, like Summerfield, in favor of relig- 
1* 



VI PREFACE. 



ion, or like Patrick Henry and Adams, in 
battling for human rights; or will he, for 
mammon's sake, prostitute that gift to the 
uses of tyranny and infidelity ? Will that 
immortal soul, which beams with intelli- 
gence and power in his countenance, ally 
itself with its Creator, and thus rise to the 
sublime height of its destiny; or will it 
wage war with truth and duty, and thus 
sink to degradation and to death? As I 
raise these great queries, I at once do rev- 
erence to the high potentiality of his nature, 
and tremble for his fate. I feel a desire 
arising within me to bear a part in guiding 
him into the way of right, duty and hap- 
piness As a fruit of that often-felt desire, 
I have written this book. May its success 
equal the ardor and sincerity of my wishes 
for the best good of young men. 

Daniel Wise. 
Fall River, Nov. 1850. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSO^ED. 

The young man invited to view the future — A joyous thought — A youns; 
man's dream of life — Disenchantment — The sower and the harvest — 
The young man a sower in the field of life — The two harvests — To be a 
young man a very serious fact — Sailing on a quiet river, and steering 
through dangerous straits — The enchanted hill — Life an enchanted hill, 
with many victims — Every young man who falls is his own destroyer — 
The Alpine muleteer and the meditative man — An enemy at home — 
The asp— The young man's complaint anticipated — Caution the parent 
of success — Napoleon's forecast — Dupont's incaution — The defeat at 
Baylen — Every young man may conquer the obstacles of life — The young 
man should cheerfully contend for success — Alcinou's Garden, . . . . 13 

CHAPTER II. 

THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 

The stately mansion — Its ruin — The owner's folly — Every young man 
is constructing a character — Its materials — Importance of a right found- 
ation — Building on the sand — Ruin — The true foundation of right 
character — The temporal advantages of a religious life — Prosperity not 
the exclusive heritage of worldlings — Benefits of religion — The lovely 
charmer and her promises — Religion not the only path to temporal good 

— Worldlings prosper without it — No tranquillity to mere worldlings — 
Confessions of Voltaire— Chesterfield — Lord Byron — Nelson— Talleyrand 

— Randolph — An affecting contrast — Religious life preferable to one of 
profitable sin — Extract — An illustration — The poisoned water — Spe- 
cifics — The poisoned heart — The genius of the world and religion — The 
choice of wisdom — An appeal — Caution — Elements of success in life — 
Religion creates them all — Every young man may reach success through 
religion, 26 



£ 



S CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 

Integrity — Its nature and operations — Kossuth's noble reply — Zuingle 
and his Papal pension — The Scotch divines and their opposition to state 
control — A sublime scene — The protest — The secession — Excitement 

— Joy of the people — Tanfield Hall — Song of Joy — Moral beauty of 
integrity — Integrity inspires confidence — It gives influence — The 
rivalry of Robespierre and Mirabeau an illustration — Exciting scene in 
the Jacobin Club — Robespierre's victory — The secret of his success — 
Integrity necessary in small matters — The clerk, the mechanic, the 
farmer, the artist, exhorted to this — Small tests not to be despised - 
Their effect on the formation of right habits — Luther — Zuingle — Kos- 
suth — A counting-room scene — The reward of integrity — Lightning 
conductors an illustration — Gideon Lee and the goat-skins — The young 
man's resolve — A serious question — Counting the cost — Religion cre- 
ates integrity of the highest order — Should be sought, . 43 

CHAPTER IV. 

INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 

A German legend — Knowledge a talisman — How some young men treat 
knowledge — The influence of intellect on the countenance — Influence a 
result of intellectual culture — Examples in the lives of Franklin, Crom- 
well, Eldon, Burke, Canning, Brougham — The sailor-boy's reverie at 
sea — Its results — All young men dream of being successful — Why so 
few realize their hopes — The price of success — Cicero and Demosthenes 

— Sir William Jones — Newton — Burke — Michcel Angelo — John Q. 
Adams — The river and the spring — Any young man may be successful, 
if he will — Poverty no necessary hindrance — Cook, Nelson, Franklin, 
Eldon, Ferguson, Heyne, Kirke White, &c. — Extract from Longfellow — 
The young man incited to effort — Religion needed to guide the intellect — 
Lord Bacon — Rousseau — Voltaire — Byron — The steam-ship — Poetic 
extract — Scene in an ancient village — The secret of John Bunyan's 
fame — Religion and its influence over the intellect — Its great thoughts 

— Religious faith — Newton — Richard Watson — Appeal to a young 
man, 66 



CONTENTS. 9 



CHAPTER V. 

ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 

Impossible the adjective of fools — What is energy — Longfellow's Excel- 
sior and the idea of energy — Energy and great achievements — The stu- 
dent at college — The history of great men appealed to — Christopher Co- 
lumbus an example of energy — Energy can overcome every obstacle — 
Energy distinguished from rashness — An oriental warrior — Mercantile 
Derars — A sketch proposed — Young Edgar's rashness and ruin — Ki.s 
mistake explained — Impulsive energy described — Its uselessness — Tha 
snail and the hare — Religion a means of developing energy — Its cen- 
tral command — Its divine aid — Its requisition of might in everything — 
The philosophy of success — Religion must be sought, . ...... S7 



CHAPTER VI. 

INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 

An old legend — The recluse — The angel's visit — The palm-tree and the 
rope — Moral of the legend — Industry essential to the enjoyment of 
life — Moments — JEropus — Prince Bonbennin — The swallow — Busy 
idlers — Goldsmith's Croaker — Useful pursuits and worthy aims neces- 
sary to industry— What may be accomplished by industry — John Jacob 
Astor — James and John Harper — Lieutenant Governor Armstrong — 
William Cobbett — Various examples of industry — Industry not unfavor- 
able to health or longevity — Henry K. White — The Eastern missionary 
— Dying of nothing to do — The victim of self-indulgence — The hunter 
and the spoiled venison — Picture of an idle man — Desire of young men 
fur an idle life considered — A life of idleness a curse — Effect on the 
intellect — Beautiful extract from Tennyson — Idleness and vice — The 
fate of the idler — Extreme cases — The Succedaneum — Life reviewed by 
an idler on his death-be- — Religion an antidote for idleness — Quotation 
from Aldichj .105 



CHAPTER VII. 

ECONOMY AND TACT. 

Importance of saving — The leaking reservoir — Pactolus and poverty — Tha 
good genius — Economy a trite theme— A picture— Ralph Montcalm 



10 CONTENTS. 



described — Dialogue between Ralph and a dandy — Cigar-smoking dia 
cussed — Ralph and the fashionable young man — Boarding at a fashion 
able house — Ralph's friends and benevolence — Ralph a good example of 
economy — Principles of economy — Spend less than you earn — Little 
expenses — The ants and the captive caterpillar — Debt — Littleness— 
The farmer and the student — Tact — What it is — It is necessary — May 
Ve cultivated — Relation of religion to economy and tact, 129 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 

Remark by the Abb£ Mennais — The harmony of nature illustrative of har- 
mony of character — Effects of excess, or defects in particular qualities — 
The rich youth an example of defect — Quotation from Shakspeare — 
Lord Byron an illustration of excess and defect— Necessity of symmetry 
in character — An important question — The circle — Regulus and his 
sentiment concerning Roman honor — A central principle like the centrip- 
etal force — What principle will produce symmetry — Honor insufficient 
— Self- respect defective — Example in case of Professor Webster — Relig- 
ion furnishes the principle — Its comprehensiveness — Its potentiality — 
Young man urged to seek it, 146 



CHAPTER IX. 

VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 

Dante and the three beasts — The panther a symbol of voluptuousness — The 
lion, of ambition — The wolf, of avarice — Successive dangers — Youth the 
age of passion — Passion maybe an instrument of mental strength — One 
chief danger — Byron on vice— The blooming shrub — Delusive aspect 
of vice — The canary birds — Fascinations — Dante's inscription over the 
gate of hell — Escape from vice next to impossible — The cobra di capello 

— History a great commentary on the power of vice — Mark Antony — 
Robert Burns — Richard Brinsley Sheridan — Vice enslaves great minda 

— The only hope — The plea of the novitiate — The dogs of Egypt — A 
little indulgence dangerous — Tasso's knights in Armida's isle — Invisible 
hooks — The bird — The watch — Mohammed and the poison of Khalbar 

— Horace Mann's thought — Religion the effectual safeguard, . . . . 162 



CONTENTS. 11 

CHAPTER X. 

VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

Patriarchal life — Abraham and Lot — Lot and the vale of Sodom — His dis- 
appointment and ruin — The youth and guilty pleasures — Hazael's indig- 
nation — Disappointment of profligates — Testimony of a veteran — Why 
vice is pursued — Passion a tyrant — The drunkard — The quagmire — 
Mental slavery — Dr. Morton — Extract from Byron — George Wachs — 
The sudden desire — The temptation — The crime — Shame after a first 
fall — Ruin of the vicious a moral certainty — Swift destruction — Regi- 
nald— His character — His tempters — His fall — Scene in his sick room 

— His pastor's visit — Last words — Legions of such youth — Ruin a Bri- 
areua — Rivers with many mouths — Arthur's visit to the city — dissipa- 
tion — the crime — prison scene — the death hour — Young man addressed 

— Ruin sometimes delayed — Self-confidence — The furious rider — Risks 

— Two facts — Crime — How it begins — The agonized mother — English 
criminals — Effects of vice on the physical constitution — A victim 
described — Remorse — Viscount Kenmuir — Oliver Goldsmith— Spira 
— Death — Judgment to come, 182 

CHAPTER XI. 

VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS 

The voices of home — Vice renders a young man deaf to these voices — Bad 
books — Impure pictures — their influence — Are all novels injurious — 
One class of novels leads to another — The ripple, the breakers, and the 
under current — The caution too late — Experience of novel-readers — 
Quotation from Dante — Novel-readers cannot escape without some evil 
— The river and its bed — Wicked companions — Their pleasure to cor- 
rupt — Air and mind — Novices and their seducers — The turning point 

— The bird and its prey — Finished seducers — The gambler described — 

— The libertine — How he tempts — The harlot — Fate of her victim — The 
sceptic — His character — His seductions— Character of the champions 
of infidelity — All the wicked to be avoided — Appeal, 210 

CHAPTER XII. 

COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 

The barren rock and the cloud of dust — Forest trees and rivers springing 
from small beginnings — Human blindness to the works of nature — 



12 CONTENTS. 



Blindness to the results of human actions — Courtship a serious theme — 
Erroneous views of courtship — False views of marriage — The high 
ends contemplated in marriage — Right opinions necessary to avoid 
debasement— Safety of right views — Necessity of caution in the choice 
of a bride — Care needed at the beginning — Accomplishments no substi- 
tute for solid excellences — Hannah More — Qualities to be sought in a 
young woman — Frugality — Industry — Sobriety — Intelligence and good 
sense — Amiability — Pleasing countenance — Moral influence of early 
courtship — Affection necessary to honorable marriage — Social equality 
— Marriage for money hateful — Sceptical women to be avoided — No 
haste to marry — Stability — Wrong to violate promises of marriage 
through fickleness — Are such promises never to be violated — Court- 
ing at night censured — William Cobbett's courtship — Concluding 
cote, 230 



YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR 



CHAPTER I 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 



IVE me your hand, my dear young 
/ friend, and I will lead you to the 
'dark passages and the rugged 
steeps whose forbidding shadows 
fall gloomily on the highway of life. 
I will also conduct you to the green 
and sunny spots whereon you may in- 
dulge in innocent delights. Open your 
heart to my counsels ! I will teach you 
how to escape the teeming dangers, which, 
'like troops of ill-omened phantoms, wait in 
the " slippery places " of youth, seeking his 
destruction. I will unfold to you the secrets of 
2 




14 

success and of eminence in this life, and the sure 
means of winning a crown of glory in the next ! 

It is, without doubt, a very joyous thought to 
you, that you have become a young man. Manhood 
has long been the fairy land of your boyhood's rev- 
eries. Your full heart swells, as you exclaim : 

" Time on my brow hath set his seal ; 
I start to find myself a man." 

Your spirits flow in rich currents of feeling, and 
your lively imagination paints the most inviting pic- 
tures of the future. To you, life is as the lovely vale 
of Arno, with its enchanting scenery of groves and 
gardens, grottoes, palaces and towers ; its transparent 
lakes, delicious air, and sunny skies. You can com- 
prehend the poet, who says : 

" To sanguine youth's enraptured eye, 
Heaven has its reflex in the sky, 
The winds themselves have melody, 

Like harp, some seraph sveepeth . 
A silver decks the hawthorn Uoom, 
A legend shrines the mossy tomb, 
And spirits throng the starry gloom, 
Her reign when midnight kecpeth.' 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 15 

It seems a pity to dim so fair a vision. I feel sad, 
as I proceed to break the sweet enchantment, and by 
touching it with the wand of truth, to overcast it 
with clouds and storms. But I should not be a 
faithful friend, if I did not assure you that these rosy 
anticipations are destined to be followed by disap- 
pointment. You must and will learn the truthful- 
ness of the following sweetly solemn strain : 

" Little we dream, when life is new, 
And nature fresh and fair to view, 
When throbs the heart to pleasure true, 

As if for naught it wanted — 
That year by year, and ray by ray, 
Romance's sunlight dies away, 
And long before the hair is gray 
The heart is disenchanted." 

Let us walk forth into the fields, and learn a lesson 
from yonder husbandman. He is casting handfuls 
of seed broadcast upon the upturned soil. A mo- 
ment's reflection teaches you that very much of the 
forthcoming harvest depends upon that sower and his 
seed. If he has properly chosen and prepared the 
soil, — if the seed be of high quality, — if it be 



16 young man's counsellor. 

sown in proper quantity, and harrowed with all due 
skill, the conditions of a good and abundant harvest 
are fulfilled, and may be reasonably expected. But 
if he has scantily sown poor seed in an ungenial and 
neglected soil, a good harvest is out of the question. 
The application of this figure to yourself is easy. 
You are now a sower of seed on the field of life. 
These bright days of youth are the seed-time. 
Every thought of your intellect, every emotion of 
your heart, every word of your tongue, every princi- 
ple you adopt, every act you perform, is a seed, 
whose good or evil fruit will be the bliss or bane of 
your after-time. As is the seed, so will be the crop. 
Indulge your appetites, gratify your passions, neglect 
your intellect, foster wrong principles, cherish habits 
of idleness, vulgarity, dissipation, and in the after 
years of manhood you will reap a plentiful crop of 
corruption, shame, degradation, and remorse ; and it 
may be, 

11 Year by year alone 
JSit brooding in the ruins of a life, 
Nightmare of youth, the spectre of yourself." 



MOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 17 

But if you control your appetites, subdue your 
passions, firmly adopt and rigidly practise right prin- 
ciples, form habits of purity, propriety, sobriety and 
diligence, your harvest will be one of honor, health 

happiness; and, 

" After-time, 
And that full voice which circles round the grave, 
Will rank you nobly."" 

That you have reached the period of youth, is, 
therefore, for you, a very serious fact. " Great des- 
tinies lie shrouded " in your swiftly passing hours. 
Great responsibilities stand in the passages of every 
day life. Great dangers lie hidden in the by-paths 
of life's great highway ; and syrens, whose song is 
as charming as the voice of Calypso, are there to 
allure you to destruction. Great uncertainty hangs 
over your future history. God has given you exist- 
ence, with full power and opportunity to improve it, 
and be happy. He has given you equal power to 
despise the gift, and be wretched. Which you 
will do, is the grand problem to be solved by your 

choice and conduct. To you, so young, so inex- 
2# 



18 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

perienced, so susceptible of evil, so capable of good, 
so full of stormy feelings, so unsettled in opinion, is 
eommitted the awful trust of your future happiness. 
Your bliss, or misery, in two worlds, hangs poised in 
the balance. The manner in which you spend your 
youth, will turn the scale, for weal or for woe. Verily 
it has been well said, that the season of youth is a 
critical period. Critical, indeed ! And I would, if 
possible, engrave the thought, in ineffaceable letters, 
•on your susceptible heart, and make you feel how 
much the fashioning of your destiny, which hitherto 
has been more in the hands of others than in your 
own, is now confided to your discretion. 

As a boy, at home, you have sailed upon the calm 
waters of a quiet river, in a bark, carefully furnished 
by a mother's love, and safely guided by a father's 
skill. Now, you are sailing through the winding 
channels, the rocky straits, the rapid, rushing cur- 
rents, at the river's mouth, into the great sea of 
active life. And here, for the first time, you are in 
tommamd of the vessel. On your skill and caution 
iepends the safety of the passage. Neglect the rules 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 19 

iaid down on the chart of experience by previous 
navigators, take passion for a pilot, place folly at 
the helm, and your bark will shortly lie a pitiful 
wreck on the rocks, or be so damaged as to peril 
your safety on the coming voyage. But study well 
the intricacies and dangers of your course, take 
counsel of experience, let caution be your pilot, and, 
without doubt, you will escape rock, current, eddy 
and whirlpool, and, with streamered masts and big 
white sail, float gayly forth to dare and conquer the 
perils of the sea beyond. 

Among the fascinating stories of the Orientals, is 
one which describes an enchanted hill, whose sum- 
mit concealed an object of incomparable worth. It 
was offered as a prize to him who shoald ascend the 
hill without looking behind him. but whoever ven- 
tured to secure this treasure was told that, if he did 
look backwards, he should be instantly changed into 
a stone. Many a princely youth, allured by the 
tempting prize, had ventured up that fatal hill ; and 
as many had been changed to stones. For the adja- 
cent groves were filled with most melodious voices 



20 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

and with birds of sweetest song, whose bewitching 
strains and enticements followed each youth as he 
ascended, until he suffered his innate curiosity to 
control his hopes and fears — turned his head, and 
instantly became a stone. Hence, said the story, the 
hill-side was covered with stones. 

To every young man, life is such an enchanted 
hill, with its thousands of alluring voices, and its 
unnumbered victims, who, prompted from within 
themselves, have listened to some fatal charmer of 
the senses, and have perished. Yet no one of them 
ever fell of necessity. Had they repressed the inward 
desire of evil, by directing the energy of their souls 
after the great prizes of religion and virtue, they 
would have become conquerors; for outward things 
have power only in proportion to the disposition of 
the mind to be affected by them. Why, for example, 
does the sublime and beautiful scenery of the Alps 
awaken no emotions of beauty or sublimity in the 
breast of the rude muleteer, whose life is spent in 
traversing their passages ? And why does that same 
scenery hold the reflective and religious mind in rapt 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 21 

admiration ? The answer is simple, but significant. 
Between nature and the muleteer there exists no 
sympathy. He is hardened against her. But the 
soul of the meditative and cultivated man is in har- 
mony with her charms. Hence, over the former she 
has no power, while she inspires the latter with rap- 
ture. So with the charms of vice ; they fall power- 
less upon minds which, cased in the mail of virtue, 
*re proof against them ; but they are omnipotent to 
those whose undisciplined passions are looking out 
upon life with prurient curiosity. Such young men 
are doomed to illustrate the fable of the orient, and 
to lie along the highways of life, hardened, undone, 
and lost. 

The young man cannot, therefore, fail to see that 
he carries the most potent of all sources of danger 
in his own breast. Within himself, as the malignant 
asp lay concealed in the basket of flowers brought to 
Cleopatra, lies his destroyer. Unless you suffer your 
own passions to exercise lordship over your reason 
and conscience, you cannot be greatly harmed. But 
herein lies you • peril, at the present epoch of your 



22 young man's counsellor. 

life. Passion is strong, because Eeason is weak: 
Desire eager, because it must not be gratified. Your 
heart is a volcano of feeling, ever heaving, and seek- 
ing, especially when in presence of the outward 
tempter, to overflow your life with vice and abomi- 
nation. There is a disposition in your soul to respond 
to the fatal voices which solicit your senses to 
trespass upon forbidden grounds. And herein — I sol- 
emnly repeat it — lies your most imminent danger. 

These views are certainly sufficient to dim the 
lustre of those day-dreams of life, so natural and so 
universal in young men. Perhaps you consider them 
too sombre and gloomy in their aspects. You com- 
plain that I have dipped my pen in the too sober hues 
of autumn, when I ought to have written with the 
bright drops which sparkle like jewels on the gay 
blossoms and painted flowers of spring ; that 1 have 
caused you to despond, when I should have stimu- 
lated your hopes and excited your courage. But 
such is not my intention, nor should aught I have 
said occasion the least despondency; it should only 
awaken caution — caution, the parent of safety, the 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 23 

companion of success. Know you not, that dangers 
are not to be overcome by blindly rushing among 
them ? The wisest and best men are they who, like 
the greatest generals, take distinct cognizance of 
their dangers, and prepare with proper forecast to 
overcome them. Napoleon, that great master of war, 
never failed to calculate upon, and to provide before- 
hand for, every imaginable difficulty. Had his lieu- 
tenant, the unfortunate General Dupont, acted on the 
same principle in Spain, the defeat he suffered at 
Baylen would not have tarnished the lustre of his 
early fame, nor rested as a spot on the military glory 
of France. But he failed of fully apprehending the 
perils of his position ; was enveloped between two 
armies, and ingloriously defeated. And you, young 
man, unless you view life as it is, — unless you sub- 
stitute the sober lessons of experience for the bril- 
liant fancies of imagination, — will find your Baylen #; 
where you will lie, crest-fallen and crushed, between , 
the vices of your own nature and the evil influences^ 
of vicious society. 

Up, then, with a heroic spirit, and gird yourself for 



24 young man's counsellor. 

mortal conflict with the great Apollyon who bestrides 
your pathway ! If he has subdued thousands, thou- 
sands have also subdued him. And you too may be 
his conqueror ! Look courageously at the chart of 
your intended voyage ! If, by every sunken rock, 
and beneath every dashing wave, there lies the 
wreck of youth who perished untimely, there is also 
a haven, beyond the sea, into which " a thousand 
times ten thousand and thousands of thousands " have 
triumphantly entered, in defiance of stormy winds 
and roaring waves. You may do the same, if you 
will take timely heed to your ways. Success is 
before you, if you resolutely and wisely seek it. As 
says a modern writer, " The seas of human life are 
wide. Wisdom may suggest the voyage, but it must 
first look to the condition of the ship, and the nature 
of the merchandise to exchange. Not every vessel 
that sails from Tarshish will bring back the gold of 
Ophir. But shall it therefore rot in the harbor? 
No ! Give its sails to the wind ! " 

And so say I. Yield your young heart up cheer- 
fully to the battle of life. Calculate upon difficulty ; 



YOUTHFUL DAY-DREAMS DISSOLVED. 25 

but calculate also upon success ; — only be sure you 
do it wisely ! To aid you in this task, and to point 
out the safe road to eminence on earth and to glory 
in heaven, is the object of the succeeding chapters. 
Follow my counsels, and in your old age you will be 
like the trees in Alcinou's garden, which were covered 
with blossoms and laden with fruit at the same time ; 
in eternity, you will nourish as a choice plant, in 
the garden of God. 
3 



& 



TAfTREff^ 



CHAPTER n. 

THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 

EICH man once undertook to 
erect a magnificent mansion. 
With free and lavish expendi- 
ture, he raised its walls ; and 
adorned it, within and without, 
to suit his taste. When finished, 
it was a stately and majestic pile of 
architecture. But, before it was ready 
for occupation, large apertures became 
visible in the walls. The floors and 
ceilings began to sink, and it was pro- 
nounced unsafe for habitation. The unwise 
owner had been in such unpardonable haste, as to 
neglect proper precautions in laying the founda- 
tion. He had built that massive structure upon an 
unsound surface, instead of digging down deep into 
the ground, after the solid rock. There was no rem- 




THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 2i 

edy, but to take it all down, and begin anew. This 
he was unable to do, having already exhausted a 
large proportion of his entire fortune in its construc- 
tion. He was obliged, therefore, to leave it to decay 
and ruin, — to mourn at leisure over the irreparable 
folly he was too hasty and too thoughtless to avoid 
at the beginning. 

I want the young man to give this, my simple par- 
able, an application to his own life, since he is and 
must be engaged in the construction of a character for 
two worlds. His actions and motives are to compose 
its materials. These, as they accumulate, will give 
it form and subsistence. It will be good or evil — a 
shelter or a curse — according to their quality. 
Composed of evangelically virtuous and noble acts, 
it will afford quiet, honor and comfort, in this life ; 
and in the life to come, an abode with the blessed. 
Composed of unprincipled and irreligious conduct, it 
will yield him unrest, shame, disgrace, in this world, 
and eternal infamy in the next. 

How vastly important, then, for a young man to 
lay a foundation suited to the structure he designs 



28 young man's counsellor. 

to erect ! It woul J be the apex of folly to think of 
placing a virtuous superstructure upon a substructure 
of vice ! I apprehend no sensible young man delib- 
erately resolves to build a bad character. Yet many, 
who design to be right in the end, begin by indulg- 
ing in follies, which they intend to repudiate at 
length. This is building on the sand ; for whether 
they are aware of it or not, the structure is begin- 
ning to rise, and every day's actions add to its dimen- 
sions. Nevertheless, the foundation is unsound ! 

Other young men, who avoid these indulgences, 
and pride themselves on a spotless morality, are, 
notwithstanding all this, also building their characters 
on the sand ! Why are they moral ? Because they 
wish to be respectable ! Why do they refrain from 
the wine-cup, the card-table, the theatre, the house 
of "her whose feet take hold of death" ? Because 
they are too proud to be vicious. Why are they dil- 
igent, studious, careful of their reputation ? Because 
they are ambitious of success in life. But what 
stability or solidity is there in pride or in ambition ? 
Alas ! they are but as the sand ! The first rushing 



THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 29 

flood of tempting circumstances may wash them, 
and the character that stands upon them, to utter 
destruction ! 

What, then, is the true foundation of character ? 
Where is that solid rock which will afford a firm 
resting-place for a virtuous life — a sure support for 
the noblest and most exalted character ? 

To this question, so big with importance to every 
young man, I answer, in the notable language of St, 
Paul, " Other foundation can no man lay than thai 
is laid, which is Jesus Christ ! " which means, that 
the corner-stone of everything truly noble in human 
character, of everything really great and honorable 
in human life, is a saving faith in Jesus Christ ! 
Without this, his earthly well-being is a " dread 
uncertainty;" the " blackness of darkness " encircles 
his grave, and clouds his prospect of immortality. 
But with it, true to the teachings of the Divine 
Redeemer, he may be sure of rising to at least a 
tolerable degree of social eminence, to moderate 
plenty, to honor and immortal life. 

The temporal advantages of an early religious life 
3* 



30 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

are not sufficiently considered by most young men. 
They blindly conclude that success in this life is the 
exclusive heritage of the worldling ; that devotion to 
God is the surrender of present advantages, and the 
price of eternal salvation. Never was any suppo- 
sition more false. It is contrary to both experience 
and Scripture. True, in the infancy of Christ's 
religion, and in seasons of persecution, the martyred 
confessor mounted his triumphal chariot, from the 
flames of his pyre, and won his crown of life by sac- 
rificing all terrestrial things. But you, young man, 
live in a land whose institutions are moulded, and 
whose inhabitants are influenced, to a great extent, 
by the teachings of Jesus. Hence, you may safely 
calculate upon realizing the apostolic maxim, that 
" Godliness is profitable for all things, having the 
promise of the life that now is, and of that which is 
to come" You may reasonably expect that, if you 
"seek first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness, all these (worldly) things shall be added unto 
you." 

The benefits of a pious life are beautifully exhib- 



THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 31 

ited in the third chapter of Proverbs. There, religion 
is strikingly personified as a lovely woman standing 
at the portals of life's great highway, and greeting 
each joyous youth, as he enters, with charming 
words and alluring gifts. As he eagerly inquires 
after happiness, she exclaims, " Happy is the man that 
findeth wisdom, (religion,) and the man that getteth 
understanding" 

But the youth sees the glitter of gold, the spark- 
ling of jewels, and the profits of merchandise, in 
tempting heaps, before him. His heart swells with 
nameless desires after the, as yet unknown, pleas- 
ures of sense, and he hesitates to submit to his beau- 
tiful teacher. To decide his unsettled mind, she 
adds : " The merchandise of it (religion) is better 
than the merchandise of silver ', and the gain thereof 
than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies ; 
and all the things thou canst desire are not to be 
compared unto her ! " 

This is promising much ; but the eye of the youth 
lingers still on the sensuous and gaudy offerings of 
Sense and Mammon. His charmer, therefore, pro- 



32 young man's counsellor. 

ceeds to say, " Length of days is in her right hand ; 
and in her left hand, riches and honor ! Her ways 
are ways of pleasantness ; and all her paths are peace! " 
Here are included health, long life, prosperity, 
eminence among men, tranquillity, and quietude of 
conscience, as the results of beginning life aright ; 
and, as if to meet the last wish of the most aspiring 
soul, she crowns this pyramid of blessings with a 
wreath from Paradise, exclaiming that, " She is a 
tree of life to them that lay hold upon her ; " by 
which is implied, that the blessed gifts of religion, 
in this world, are to be succeeded by a life of unend- 
ing glory, in the next. Could more than this be 
offered ? Nay, there is nothing left to be desired. 
Only surrender your heart to the sway of piety, — 
approach your Creator, and entreat him to bind you 
to religion, with the soft bands of that love which 
" many waters cannot quench," — and you may view 
this world with that confidence which cries, " The 
Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want ; " and the 
next, with that hope, which triumphantly exclaims, 
' If the earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved. 



THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 33 

we have a building , not made with hands , eternal, 
<ind in the heavens" 

I do not affirm that a religious life is the only road 
to temporal prosperity and social superiority. Riches, 
nonor, power, and long life, are often gained by men 
who are " an abomination in the sight of God." 
Superior genius will, of itself, win popular admira- 
tion, and command civic or political honors. Bril- 
liant business talents will make their possessor a 
desirable and prosperous man. A strong physical 
constitution is favorable to longevity. And eve? 
duplicity, knavery, or overreaching in trade, may fi] 
a man's coffers with unholy gain. Often, indeed, dc 
the morally vile, the enemies of Christ, climb to the 
high places of earth. But their gain is their 'portion. 
Their advantage is apparent, and not real. Beneath 
a gay and attractive exterior, they carry a sad and 
heavy heart. To real contentment, to inward tran- 
quillity, to genuine happiness, every godless man is 
an utter stranger, however high or brilliant may be 
his worldly position. What irreligious worldling, 
however proud his success, ever, in a candid moment, 



34 young man's counsellor. 

made a profession of happiness, since the days of 
Cain ? Not one ! On the other hand, multitudes of 
the world's most honored and applauded heroes have 
groaned forth the lamentable cry, " Our misery is 
greater than we can endure ! " amidst profusions of 
honors, riches, offices, and plaudits. Kings, princes, 
senators, philosophers, merchants, warriors, and ora- 
tors, without number, when at the height of their 
ambition, have signed the declaration of that wise 
monarch, who said of this world, " Vanity of vani- 
ties, all is vanity ! " Let me show you the hearts of 
some of these, as they are revealed in their own 
recorded confessions. 

Voltaire, one of the most brilliant of the sons of 
genius, whose friendship was courted by powerful 
kings, and whom the people delighted to honor, 
speaking of life, said, "Life is thickly sown with 
thorns ; and I know of no other remedy than to pass 
quickly through them." 

Lord Chesterfield, a British nobleman, a man 
who made pleasure his chief pursuit, rich in titles, 
lands, wit, learning, and opportunity, after comparing 



# THE COKNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 35 

life to a dull, tasteless, and insipid journey, said, 
" As for myself, my course is already more than half 
passed over, and I mean to sleep in the coach the 
rest of the journey." 

Byron, that highly gifted but deeply sinning child 
of the Muses, describes human life in the following 
sorrowful lines : 

" Alas ! it is delusion all ; 

The future cheats us from afar, 
Nor can we be what we recall, 
Nor dare we think on what we are." 

To these melancholy confessions we might add 
those of Nelson, Talleyrand, Eandolph, and a host 
beside, who, in similar language, have given unequiv- 
ocal testimony to the absolute impossibility of com- 
bining genuine enjoyment with a merely worldly life. 
And where is the young man who can envy the liter- 
ary glory of Voltaire, the fashionable preeminence of 
Chesterfield, or the blazing lustre of Byron's genius, 
while he beholds the first so tortured with the thorns 
of life, the second so horrified with its ennui, the 
third so tormented with remorse and fear, that a 



36 young man's counsellor. 



hasty flight, a blind forgetfulness, or a reckless leap 
into the great deep of consequences, is their highest 
consolation? Alas! how pitiful, how inexpressibly 
mournful, the sight, to see minds immortal so tor- 
mented, and so hopelessly wretched ! 

How beautiful is the contrast between the gloom 
of these brilliant worldlings and the lofty cheerfulness 
of the great Christian apostle ! He ranked not, like 
them, with the lordly, the great, the royal ; but was 
accounted as the " the filth and off scouring of all 
things" His persecutions and sufferings rained on 
his head, and raged around his steps, in incomparable 
fury. Yet, there he stood, firmly and calmly, amidst 
the foaming of the storm, his feet resting on the solid 
rock of Christ's promise, his eyes fastened on the love 
and mercy of God, which, brighter and lovelier than 
the rainbow, spanned the heavens ; his heart beating 
with the glad pulsations of immortal life, and his 
tongue giving utterance to the sublimest language of 
confidence, exclaiming, " Our light affliction, which 
is but for a moment, workethfor us afar more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory ! " Tell me, young 



% THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 37 

man, if this noble bearing, this Divine triumph, under 
the sorest of present ills, is not of more value than 
all the pleasures of sense, the pomp of power, or the 
luxuries of wealth ! How infinitely preferable, there- 
fore, must be a life consecrated to religion, in it? 
prime, to a life of even profitable sin ! To every 
innocent gratification that earth can give to the 
senses, religion joins a sweet repose of spirit, which 
must be ever unknown to those whose souls are not 
in harmony with their Creator. For, as the Abbe 
Mennais has beautifully said, " While a sinful life 
engenders suffering, and a sorrow is always hidden 
at the bottom of a forbidden joy, — calmness, on the 
contrary, serenity, unvarying contentment, are the 
lot of a pure conscience. It resembles the sparrow, 
sweetly reposing in its nest, while the tempest abroad 
bends and breaks the tops of the forest." 

Who has not heard of those triumphs of art and 
labor, by which the waters of the Croton and of 
Cochituate lake are made to flow, in iron arteries, 
through the streets, and into the very chambers of 
the citizens of two great American cities ? Let i 
4 



33 young man's counsellor. 

suppose that these waters, by some mysterious change, 
become insipid, and even poisonous. Confusion, 
disappointment, and even intense suffering, are the 
immediate results. Amidst the universal dismay of 
such a misfortune, two men appear before the City 
Councils, with specifics for the healing of the waters. 

" I," affirms the first, " have a powder, a pinch 
of which will heal a gallon of the water, and render 
it sweet as before." 

The city fathers look joyfully at each other. 
Water is brought. The powder is infused with eager 
haste ; each official sips a drop or two, and pro- 
nounces it delicious. The powder is equal to the 
claims of the inventor. Eulogy is exhausted in its 
praise. They inquire the price of this great discov- 
ery; and are about to conclude a contract for its 
purchase, when the second man steps up, saying : 

" Gentlemen, I have a specific, which, cast into 
the springs of the lake or the river, will heal the 
whole forever ! " 

The city fathers are incredulous at first. But the 
man is earnest, and evidently sincere. He demands 



THE CORNER-STONE OF A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 39 

a bond for an immense price, to be paid if he fulfils 
his promise. Otherwise, he asks nothing. Now, if 
these city fathers were wise, with which of these men, 
think you, they would conclude a contract ? Judge 
for them, young man, if they ought not, at almost 
any cost, to purchase the specific which would entirely 
remove the evil at once ! 

Need I make an application of this illustration ? 
Can you not already perceive its force, and feel its 
bearing on yourself? Know you not that the heart, 
originally pure as the springs of Paradise, has become 
radically unclean ? — that its natural streams flow 
forth in bitterness exceeding the taste of aloes ; and 
in pollution more vile than the spumy waves of a 
turbid sea ? Hence, it follows that life becomes a 
" heritage of woe." To escape from this woe, every 
young immortal looks out of himself for help. Be- 
fore him stands the genius of this world, inviting to 
the "lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and to the 
pride of life." There, also, is the radiant form of 
Religion, inviting him to the cross of Christ, to virtue, 
and to heaven. The former dares not promise more 



£0 

than occasional hours of delight ; and makes no pre- 
tence to heal the springs of misery, which are ever 
sending their streams of sorrow through the life. 
The latter, like Elisha standing with his cruse of 
salt at the waters of Jericho, boldly promises to heal 
those springs, and to convert the heart into a living 
fountain of tranquil joy, capable of yielding sweet 
satisfaction under every variety of outward circum- 
stance. 

Say, then, young man, which is the choice of wis- 
dom ? As a mere question of advantage during the 
present life, ought you not to lay a foundation of 
evangelical piety ? I appeal to the tribunal of your 
reason. I demand the verdict of your intellect. To 
enforce that, I implore the authority of your con- 
science. With your reason and conscience on the 
side of religion, I beg you to yield a submissive will ! 
And, hearken ! A higher voice than mine supports 
.this appeal ! From Him whom " the heaven of 
heavens cannot contain" a sound, " still, small" but 
thrilling, steals into every young man's heart, saying 



the corner-stone of a successful life. 41 

" Wilt thou not, from this time, cry unto me, My 
Father, thou art the guide of my youth ! " 

Take heed how you despise this appeal of your 
Creator ! Look at your life, in its relations to him, 
and to eternity ! Contemplate your destinies from 
that " height which no duration limits, — where Hope 
spreads in immensity her indefatigable wings, — 
where you can feel within yourself a secret force, 
which bears you above all time, as a light body rises 
from the depth of the sea. From this height, look 
into this narrow valley, where the first term of your 
existence is to be accomplished.'' And thus, with 
both worlds before you, come to the great decision to 
lay your foundation surely and steadfastly on Him 
who is the " Eock of ages." 

To be -successful in life, to rise above the common 
herd of mankind, a young man requires certain ele- 
ments of character ; — all of which are attainable 
through the power of religion, and many of which 
most young men never will attain without that power. 
He must possess Integrity, that he may win public 
confidence; Intelligence, that he may command re- 
4^ 



42 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

spect ; Industry, that he may collect honey from the 
flowers of trade ; Economy and frugality, to preserve 
his gains ; Energy, by which to surmount obstacles ; 
and Tact, to enable him to adapt himself to the 
openings of Providence, and to make him the man 
for the hour of opportunity. These qualifications are, 
to success in life, as foundations of jasper to a royal 
palace. Whoever possesses them cannot be an infe- 
rior man. To that man who retains them, life cannot 
be a failure. Nay, he must rise to social superiority ; 
he must win a commanding influence. And, hear 
me, young man ! These elements of success are all 
attainable, in a greater or less degree, by every youth 
who will cordially embrace, and faithfully adhere to, 
the religion of Christ ; as I will endeavor to prove, in 
the succeeding chapters. 



Every man has his fault, and honesty 
is his ; I ha' told him on't, but I could 
ne'er get him from 't. 

Timon of Athens. 

CHAPTER III. 

INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 

NTEGRITY signifies incorrupti- 
bility, soundness of heart, upright- 
ness. A man of integrity is alway r s 
loyal to his sense of right. His 
-adhesion to the principles of recti- 
tude is so strong, that nothing can 
break it. No motive is sufficiently 
powerful to move him from the straight 
line of duty. Money cannot purchase 
his consent to a wrong action. Pleasure 
cannot entice him from the ways of justice. 
The pleadings of love, the yearnings of friendship, the 
threatenings of enmity, are alike powerless to move 
his steady soul from its purpose to abide faithful to 
its convictions. To the wicked in high places, who 
would natter him to turn aside from truth, for the 




44 young man's counsellor. 

sake of their favor, he indignantly responds, " Shall 
I sell my principles for human praise ? — for that 

" ' Wild wreath of air, 
That flake of rainbow, flying on the highest 
Foam of men's deeds V " 

Ever true to his principles, his actions and his 

duties are as — 

11 Consonant chords that shiver to one note." 

If duty calls him to rise up singly in defence of 
truth, like Noah preaching to a world of sinners, he 
stands, in the noblest sublimity of moral character, 

"Like a Druid rock, 
Or like a spire of land, that stands apart, 
Cleft from the main." 

If exposed to the wrath and violence of ungodly 
men, — if the enemies of right raise threatening tem- 
pests about his head, — if they pour forth floods of 
enmity to wash him from his high moral position, — 
he remains unmoved and una wed at his chosen post : 

" Standing like a stately pine, 
Set in a cataract on an island crag, 
When storm is on the heights, and right and left, 
Sucked from the dark heart of the long hills, roll 
The torrents dashed to the vale." 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 45 

The reply of Kossuth, the renowned hero of Hun- 
gry, furnishes a beautiful illustration of this virtue. 
He had escaped the pursuit of the triumphant Cos- 
sacks, and sought protection at the hands of the Sul- 
tan of Turkey. Safety, wealth, military command, 
were cheerfully offered to him by the Sultan, provided 
he would renounce the Christian religion, and em- 
brace the doctrines of Mohammed. To refuse this 
condition would, for aught he knew to the contrary, 
be equivalent to throwing himself upon the sword of 
Russia, which was whetted for his destruction. But, 
with death frowning in his face, the heroic Kossuth 
nobly exclaimed, " Welcome, if need be, the axe or 
the gibbet ; but curses on the tongue that dares to 
make to me so infamous a proposal ! " 

In this fact, you see both the nature and the moral 
sublimity of integrity. The soul of Kossuth, long 
trained to a love of truth and right, revolted, with 
indignation, from the bare idea cf purchasing his life 
by the sacrifice of his conscience. To die loyal to his 
sense of duty, however cruel the mode of his death, 
he regarded as infinitely preferable to life, honors, 



46 young man's counsellor. 

and wealth, with a violated conscience. This it 
integrity. 

An equally striking example is furnished, in the 
conduct of Ulric Zwingle, the illustrious master spirit 
of the Swiss Eeformation. The Pope had given 
Zwingle a small pension, and his legate was endeav- 
oring to combat certain scruples which the nascent 
reformer indulged on the question of retaining it. 
The spirit of reform was beginning to stir within him, 
and a dim presentiment of his ultimate duty to attack 
the Papacy was slowly rising in his soul. Hence, 
he wished to be released from all ties which would 
hinder the freedom of his great mind. But the papal 
legate insisted, and Zwingle consented to retain it a 
while longer, but added these notable words : 

" Do not think that for any money I will suppress 
a single syllable of the truth ! " 

Noble Zwingle ! Glorious loyalty to the sense of 
duty, which not all the wealth of the Vatican can 
induce to surrender even a syllable of truth ! Young 
man, this, too, is integrity ! 

At the risk of being too profuse in my illustrations 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 47 

of this point, I will introduce yet another, and, per- 
haps, more striking exhibition of this essential virtue. 

The interest of the circumstances, and the hope 
that the moral beauty they disclose may strengthen 
the young man's allegiance to right, shall be my 
apology. 

The government of Scotland had, for generations, 
claimed a jurisdiction over the pulpits of the Scottish 
Church, which the latter could not conscientiously 
yield. A recent enforcement of this ancient claim, 
in a particular church, followed by abortive efforts to 
secure a reform, led several of its most celebrated 
ministers to a determination to quit the assembly, 
resign their churches, and organize a free church, 
independent of all state control. The execution of 
this purpose involved the sacrifice of their livings, 
manses, and means of support. It would leave many 
of them poor, houseless, and dependent on the Prov- 
idence of God alone for support. The adherents of 
the state sneered at this resolve, and said there was 
no fear that many of them would make such a sacri- 
fice for a mere scruple of conscience. The 18th of 



48 young man's counsellor. 

May, 1843, however, proved to Scotland and to the 
world that the spirit of the ancient Scottish Cove- 
nanter yet lived in the heart of her modern sons. 
Let us view the scene as it transpired on that memo 
rable day, in the city of Edinburgh. 

The gray old towers of Holyrood are alive with 
the bustle and grandeur of reflected royalty. The 
narrow streets are crowded with dense masses, 
through which the gorgeous procession of the 
queen's commissioner can scarcely force its way to 
the cathedral church of St. Giles. The levee and 
sermon past, the royal commissioner proceeds to St. 
Andrew's, to meet the General Assembly. Amidst 
the anxious beatings of many hearts, the house is 
called to order. 

Prayer is next offered, and is followed by a brief, 
deep silence. Then, the polished and classic Welsh, 
who is moderator, " his pure and glowing spirit shin- 
ing through his fragile body, like a lamp through a 
vase of alabaster," rises to his seat. With a firm, 
unfaltering voice, he utters a noble protest against 
the proceedings of the state. Then, laying his pro- 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 49 

test on the table, and bowing to the commissioner, 
he walks toward the eastern door. This move- 
ment raises the interest of the assembly to its high- 
est pitch ; for, who could say how many would abide 
true to principle and right, in that stern hour of trial ? 
Who will follow the dauntless Welsh ? First, the 
white-haired Chalmers, with his " massive frame and 
lion port, springs to his side." Another and another 
of Scotland's most distinguished clergy follow him, 
until the pride and flower of the church swell 
the gathering stream. As they pour out of the 
church, "a long-drawn sobbing sigh, a suppressed 
cheer of admiration and sympathy, sweeps round 
the church," from the spectators, who gaze in solemn 
wonder at the sight. Dismay and astonishment 
mark the countenances of the royal commissioner, 
and the adherents of the crown. 

Outside of the church the excitement is still more 
intense. Vast masses have waited there, for hours, 
to see if the spirit of the old Covenanter yet lived 
in Scotland. " When will they come ? " has been 

asked a thousand times. 
5 



50 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

" They will not come ! " has been as often an- 
swered back by those who had no faith in the power 
of principle. 

" They will come ! " has been the response of the 
old Covenanter soul. 

At length, a door opens, — a cry of " Here they 
come I " announces to the multitude, and to the 
world, that the Evangelical Church of Scotland is 
free ! Instantly, the whole mass of people is in 
motion. Hats and handkerchiefs are waved aloft, 
and " a shout, not loud, but deep and earnest, — a 
shout, the voice of the heart rather than of the lip, 
bursts from the countless thousands " who throng 
street, door, window, and even house-top. The long 
agony is over. The church is safe. Strong men, 
who had faced the roar of battle unmoved, are un- 
strung, and the big tears gush from their eyes, as 
they murmur, " Thank God, Scotland is free ! " 
■" Four hundred of Scotland's best ministers, and as 
many elders, march through that yielding, crowd to 
Tanfield Hall, which is crowded to the roof by eager 
spectators. There, the tremulous voice of Welsh leads 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 51 

m prayer, and the long pent up feelings of the assem- 
bly burst forth in irrepressible sobs, and tears of 
mingled sorrow and gladness. Then, that multitude 
stands up, and from " four thousand voices there 
ascend the high and mournful strains of the old 
Hebrew faith and fearlessness." 

" God is our refuge and our strength, 
In straits a present aid ; 
Therefore, although the earth remove, 
We will not be afraid." 

The towers of the Cannon mills shake with the 
thunder of their melody ; and every heart is nerved 
with holy fervor to lay down all for the cross and 
crown of Christ.^ 

The moral grandeur of this scene is, at least, equal 
to any recorded facts in the history of man! It 
exhibits the moral beauty of integrity. The scene 
owes all its sublimity to the fact that those heroic 
ministers were sufficiently loyal to their sense of 
right and duty to prefer the loss of all things to its 
violation. And, young man, this is the integrity I 

* See Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotland. 



52 young man's counsellor. 

wish you to attain, as a prime element of success in 
life. 

One of the first effects of integrity is to secure to 
its possessor the confidence of society. To have the 
confidence of others, is to have influence over them ; 
for men readily yield themselves to the guidance of 
those in whom they confide. Hence, a reputation 
for lofty integrity is a better capital than gold ; — it 
is more persuasive than eloquence ; — it is more 
powerful than the sword. A remarkable example of 
its influence is furnished in the rivalry of Eobespierre 
and Mirabeau, during the first epochs of the French 
Revolution. 

No two men, perhaps, ever presented greater con- 
trasts of person, ability, and character, than these 
politicians. Mirabeau was of patrician blood; 
Robespierre, an obscure plebeian. Mirabeau had the 
eye of an eagle, the port of a lion, the energy of a 
whirlwind, a voice of thunder, an eloquence which 
stirred men's souls, commanded the assent of his 
friends, and terrified his adversaries. Robespierre's 
eyes flashed no fire, his manner was feeble and 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 53 

uncouth, his voice weak and broken, his oratory 
was contemptible, and usually passionless. Between 
such men, one would think, there could be no rivalry 
for, how could Eobespierre, vain as he was, dare to 
compete for influence with Mirabeau ? But he did 
dare ; and that, too, with success, as will appear by 
the following scene, which took place in the celebrated 
Revolutionary Club of the Jacobins, where hitherto 
Mirabeau had reigned supreme. 

Eobespierre was speaking, one night, in the club, 
against a decree, which, through Mirabeau's influ- 
ence, had that day passed the National Assembly. 
Though cold and passionless in his manner, he, 
nevertheless, brought such severe logic to bear 
against the principles of the decree, that the club 
greeted him with thunders of applause. Mirabeau 
is alarmed. He sits uneasy in his presidential chair , 
and at length calls Robespierre to order, saying, " No 
one must speak against a decree already passed by 
the Assembly ! " 

This, the club will not endure. Loud shouts for 
Robespierre to proceed resound through the hall. 
5* 



54 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

Mirabeau mounts his chair, and affirming that the 
attack on the decree was intended to cover an assault 
upon himself, appeals to his friends, crying, " Help, 
colleagues ! Let all my friends surround me ! " 

This was manifestly an appeal to his influence 
over the club. A few months before, it would have 
brought a rampart of some six hundred human breasts 
around him. But that night, only thirty responded 
to his call ! It was obvious that his influence had 
passed over to Eobespierre. 

What was the secret of this change? Let the 
young man note it carefully. Mirabeau had accepted 
royal gold ; — his political integrity had become sus- 
pected ; — and all his high qualifications were grow- 
ing impotent. Robespierre, — cold, selfish, calculat- 
ing, repulsive, as he was, — had contrived to acquire a 
reputation for incorruptibility. Men believed that no 
price could purchase his allegiance to republican prin- 
ciples ; hence, they freely surrendered themselves up 
to his influence, until they placed him at the head 
of that fearful and barbarous revolution; proving 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 5o 

that, even among unprincipled men, there is a 
respect for integrity which moulds and leads them. 

Let me exhort you, therefore, young man, to cul- 
tivate the loftiest integrity, even in connection with 
the smallest matters. Are you a clerk ? See to it 
that your minutest entries are strictly correct. Th&t 
you never appropriate one cent of your employer's 
money or property to your own uses. Deal with 
honorable exactness toward all who trade at your 
store or counting-room. Eschew all business lies, in 
selling goods. If, in measuring or weighing an arti- 
cle, you discern defects which lessen its value, boldly 
make them known. Do not permit a dishonest em- 
ployer to compel you to be his instrument, — his tool 
for doing wrong. Let him distinctly understand that 
you do not hesitate between dishonor and dismissal. 
Prove, if need be, by the loss of your situation, that 
you prefer an honest crust to a dishonest banquet. 
If you are a mechanic, a farmer, or an artist, prose- 
cute your daily tasks with the same careful diligence 
in the absence, as in the presence, of your employer ; 
thus proving that you are " no eye-servant" no mere 



56 young man's counsellor. 

" man-pleaser" but a conscientious and dignified 
young man ; doing right, not for reputation's sake, 
but because you love it, and from a sense of obliga- 
tion to Almighty God. 

It is by small things that you are to acquire a habit 
of integrity. The disposition of mankind is to de- 
spise the little incidents of e very-day life. This is 
a lamentable mistake ; since nothing in this life is 
really small. Every event is " great, for good or for 
evil ; because of the unfathomable mysteries that lie 
shrouded in the growth on earth of an immortal soul." 
It is only by exercising your principles in the daily 
tests of ordinary life that you can acquire power to 
stand in an extraordinary and truly difficult position. 
It was only by habitual fidelity to his sense of duty, 
that Luther or Zwingle acquired strength to withstand 
the flattering solicitations of the Pope. None but a 
mind trained, through daily tests, to an instinctive 
choice of right, could, like Kossuth, so promptly and 
unhesitatingly accept the gibbet or axe as the price 
of integrity. Any other mind would have paused, 
hesitated, employed mental casuistry, and looked; a 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 57 

least, after some excuse for yielding a principle and 
saving life. But Kossuth's mind settled the question 
as soon as it was stated ; and thus showed itself loyal, 
from long habit, to virtue and to truth. Be faithful, 
therefore, in that which is least ; thereby acquiring the 
power to be faithful in that which is great, should 
you ever be called to such a trial of your principles. 

Let us enter yonder counting-room. A clerk is 
busy at the writing-desk. The merchant sits convers- 
ing at the table with a brother merchant. The porter 
calls the clerk from the counting-room. As the door 
closes, the visiting merchant inquires of his friend, 

" Is that your chief clerk, Mr. Grey ? " 

"Yes, sir. He is at the head of my establish* 
ment," replies the merchant. 

" Indeed ! Are you not afraid to intrust so young 
a man with so high a responsibility ? " 

Mr. Grey smiles, and answers, 

" No, sir. That young man has my most implicit 
confidence. He has been with me from his boyhood. 
I have never known him to betray a single trust. 
He identifies his interests with mine. He abhors the 



58 young man's counsellor. 

idea of mercantile dishonesty in every aspect ; and 
I would intrust him with uncounted gold." 

" You are fortunate to have such a clerk. Depend 
upon it, there are few such in our city," replies the 
merchant's friend, as, deeply musing, he retires from 
the counting-room. The conversation has strongly 
impressed his mind. He conducts an extensive 
business; and, being somewhat advanced in life, is 
desirous of finding a young partner. The high 
commendation of Mr. Grey's clerk has fixed his 
attention. He resolves to observe him, and, at a 
suitable opportunity, if satisfied, secure his services. 
The result is, that the young clerk becomes first his 
partner, and subsequently the owner of the business ; 
thus securing profit and advancement, as the reward 
of his integrity. 

Now, I do not say that every young man of 
sound principles will be equally fortunate ; because 
capacity, address, and other elements, must be com- 
bined, to insure such marked and signal elevation. 
Yet, I do not hesitate to affirm, that every young 
man who resembles that clerk in his uprightness of 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 59 

character may be sure of rising to a loftier height in 
his profession, and to more enduring fortune, than 
if his principles are loose, and his fidelity open to 
suspicion. 

In some of the European states, scientific men 
have recommended the insertion of lightning-rods in 
quarries, for the purpose of attracting the electric 
fluid during a thunder-storm, and thereby blasting 
the rock. The relation of those rods to the splitting 
of a stone fitly illustrates the influence of dishonesty, 
trickery in trade, or over-reaching in any form, upon 
the fame and fortune of the clerk, or merchant, who 
condescends to its practice. Every such violation of 
the laws of right serves as a conductor to the retrib- 
utive providences of the Creator, which, sooner or 
later, shiver the fabric built up by fraud into frag- 
ments. The late Gideon Lee, a celebrated Ameri- 
can merchant, and an honest man, was accustomed 
to remark, that, though " a man may obtain a tempo- 
rary advantage by selling an article for more than it 
is worth, yet the effect must recoil upon himself, in 
the shape of bad debts and increased risk." The 



60 



following fact, in his history, is given to illustrate 
his opinion : 

A merchant boasted, one day, in Mr. Lee's office, 
of having gained a great advantage over a neighbor ; 
and then, with the utmost barefacedness, added, 
"To-day, I have obtained an advantage over you, 
too, Mr. Lee ! " 

" Well ! " replied the honest man, " that may be ; 
but, if you will promise never to enter my office 
again, I will give you that bundle of goat-skins." 

The unprincipled trader was so devoid of all self- 
respect, that he made the promise, took the skins, 
and for fifteen years did not cross Mr. Lee's thresh- 
old. At the expiration of that period, however, he 
walked into his office. Mr. Lee instantly recognized 
him, and said : " You have violated your word ; pay 
me for the goat-skins ! " 

" ! " replied the man, in sorrowful tones, " 1 
have been very unfortunate since I saw you, and am 
quite poor." 

11 Yes," said the man of probity ; " and you will 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 61 

always be so; that miserable desire to overreach 
others must keep you so." * 

Thus, you may see that the providence of God has 
joined ultimate adversity to all violations of the law 
of justice, just as he has united honor and well-being 
with integrity. The motive, therefore, is two-fold, 
- — one of fear, and another of attraction. Honor, 
advancement, well-being, with their rich emolu- 
ments, stand inviting you to the ways of right ; while 
disgrace, debasement and ruin, stand frowning in the 
paths of deceit and dishonesty. God himself speaks 
to you, saying: " The house of the wicked shall be 
overthrown ; but the tabernacle of the upright shall 
flourish" 

You are doubtless convinced of the beauty, the 
benefit, the desirableness, of this vital element of 
genuine success in life. Perhaps, you have inwardly 
resolved to cultivate it. Animated by the examples, 
pleased with the beauty, attracted by the benefits, of 
integrity, you have already said, in your heart : " 1 
will diligently cultivate this sublime virtue ! With 

* Quoted in Hunt's Merchants' Magazine. 

6 



62 young man's counsellor. 

Kossuth, Zwingle, and those noble Scotsmen, I will 
hold my integrity dearer than money, honor, or 
life ! " 

This is a noble resolve; but how will you keep it? 
Whence, amid the contagion of evil example, the 
lure of the apparent rewards of deceit, and the insa- 
tiable desires of your own fiery heart, — which will 
soon be as eager, in the strife for fame and fortune, 
as Hotspur in the battle-field, — whence will you 
gain strength to resist all these temptations? By 
what aids do you intend to remain conqueror on a 
field where millions have fallen? Consider well the 
question of Jesus, who asks, " What king, going to 
make war against another king, sitteth not down first 
and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand, 
to meet him that cometh against him with twenty 
thousand ? " So you, counting the difficulties sur- 
rounding a young combatant after an upright repu- 
tation, should seriously ask — "Have I strength to 
overcome these obstacles ? " 

Now, I will not deny the obvious fact, that a few 
persons have won a high mercantile reputation with- 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 63 

out the aid of experimental religion. Pride of birth, 
of character, of education, a strong instinctive admi- 
ration of mercantile justice, freedom from the pres- 
sure of strong solicitation, with other causes, may 
have sustained them under their circumstances ; but 
I contend that no young man can rationally hope to 
pass the ordeals of life in safety, unless his outward 
virtues derive vitality and vigor from an inward relig- 
ous life. To be perennial, the stream must proceed 
from a living spring; to be fruitful, the tree must 
spread its roots in a congenial soil : so, to insure the 
possession of uprightness through the manifold trials 
of human life, the soul of a man must be in harmony 
with its Creator, — through faith in Him, it must 
derive strength to resist wrong, to desire and to will 
right, when standing in the plunging torrent of evil 
influences which is ever dashing down the highways 
of trade. Greatly good men are always " like solitary 
towers in the city of God ; and secret passages, run- 
ning deep beneath external nature, give their thoughts 
intercourse with higher intelligences, which strength- 
ens and controls them ; " and this secret intercourse 



64 young man's counsellor.. 

with God is necessary for you, if to be greatly good 
is your aim and purpose. 

Keligion never fails to make its possessor a man of 
integrity. Its primary idea is a surrender of the man, 
soul and body, to God and to his teachings. A delib- 
erate casting off of any one moral principle, known 
to be a Divine precept, is an act of apostasy from 
religion. It is a disavowal of the previous act of 
surrender, a violation of the sacred covenant. Hence, 
religion and integrity are as inseparable as a cause 
and its sequence. To embrace the former, is, of ne- 
cessity, to secure the latter. To yield fully to the 
indwelling Spirit, who chooses the religious heart for 
his temple, is to be in a state where the loftiest and 
sublimest integrity is "spontaneous and inevitable, 
the outward blossoming and fruitfulness of a heav- 
enly life. It is like the skylark's hymn, the violet's 
fragrance, the breath of the sweet south, the morn- 
ing star's sweet effulgence. The soul obeys the 
desires of her Divine Lord with the ineffable delight, 
tenderness and constancy, of the bride." * 

* Rev. T. L. Harris. 



INTEGRITY NECESSARY TO SUCCESS IN LIFE. 65 

Religion should, therefore, be your first object of 

pursuit, if you desire to wear the ornament of an 

upright character. Place yourself in the hands of 

Jesus Christ. Yield your spirit, as an instrument 

of power, to the touch of his fingers, and suffer him 

to call forth its delightful harmonies. Let his power 

be your dependence ; his grace your strength. Thus 

will yonr moral sense be keen, clear, sensitive; your 

moral power, equal to the most powerful tests ; your 

integrity, of the purest character ; and your success 

in life greatly promoted. 
6* 




CHAPTER IV. 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 




THINK it is the Germans who 
have a pretty legend, of a gentle- 
man for whom some enamored 
fairy wrought a precious talisman, 
-which had the power to attract all 
persons who came near the wearer 
to himself. The charm wrought pow- 
erfully on the companions of the for- 
tunate nobleman; and he was loved 
with wondrous affection by a large circle 
of admiring friends. 
If such a talisman were attainable, at the cost of 
much labor, suffering, and even of danger, many a 
3^oung man would seek it with incredible industry. 

His imagination would be charmed by the idea. He 

» 

would be ready to attempt the ascent of the Andes, 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 67 

or the exploration of the dreary realms of the Ice 
King, around the poles. 

But when that same young man is told that, unless 
neutralized by moral deficiencies, knowledge is really 
a precious talisman, commanding the respect and 
influencing the opinions and conduct of all minds 
within his sphere of action, — elevating its possessor 
to influence, to honor, and, possibly, to fortune, — 
he turns away with apathy, perhaps with scorn. 
He disdains mental toil. However physically indus- 
trious he may be, he is intellectually too lazy ti* 
read, reflect, and study. Books are the objects of 
his fixed dislike. He would be delighted to wield a 
commanding influence, to make a deep mark in the 
world ; but, he is too slothful, too sensuous, to prose- 
cute the studies, which, by expanding, strengthening, 
and developing the intellect, lead to high achieve- 
ments and eminence. He prefers to waste his leisure 
hours in idle lounging, in frivolous amusement, in 
unprofitable companionships. What is the conse- 
quence ? It requires no prophetic afflatus to predict 



68 young man's counsellor. 

that such a young man will spend hjs days in com 
parative obscurity, — that on his 

cc Grassy grave 
The men of future times will careless tread, 
And read his name upon the sculptured stone ; 
Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears, 
Recall his vanished memory." 

The mind is the glory of the man. The power 
of the countenance to attract depends more on the 
thoughtfulness of the soul than upon its conformity 
to the laws of beauty. The utmost elegance of 
physical formation, the most lovely and delicately 
chiselled features, unless accompanied by high intel- 
lectual expression, cease to please, after they become 
familiar ; while " dignity robes the man who is 
filled with a lofty thought," notwithstanding the 
symmetry of his features may be imperfect, and the 
proportions of his form unequal. And, seeing how 
much of success in life often depends upon outward 
impressions, it is important to a young man to robe 
himself in the attractive dignity of thought. 

Next to moral worth, no possession is so productive 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 69 

of real influence as a highly cultivated intellect. 
Wealth, birth, and official station, may, and do, secure 
to their possessors an external, superficial courtesy ; 
but they never did, and they never can, command 
the reverence of the heart. Fear of being injured 
by power, and hope of being benefited by wealth, 
induce men to offer the incense of servility at the 
shrines of Mammon. But it is only to the man of 
large and noble soul, to him who blends a cultivated 
mind with an upright heart, that men yield the 
tribute of deep and genuine respect. Mental supe- 
riority has often commanded the friendship of courts 
and kings. It has elevated the plebeian above the 
patrician. What star ever shone with purer light. 
or commanded more admiration, in the brilliant court 
of France, than the plain, republican, but cultivated, 
Benjamin Franklin ? Who ever rose to higher influ- 
ence in the political circles of proud England than 
Cromwell, Eldon, Burke, Canning, and Brougham ? 
To what did they owe their vast influence, but to 
great intellectual power, developed by slow and toil- 
some cultivation ? Is the young man ambitious of 



70 

high success in life ? Does he aspire to rival great 
names ? Then, let him diligently cultivate his intel- 
lect. 

Yonder, on the calm, moonlit sea, gliding in 
solemn majesty over the unruffled waters, is a splen- 
did ship. Among the dark forms upon her deck, 
may be discerned a pale-faced boy, some sixteen 
summers old. He is leaning over the bulwarks, 
absorbed in a dreamy reverie. His imagination is 
traversing the future of his career. Filled with the 
gay illusions of hope, hfi peoples the years to come 
with images of success. He beholds himself rising 
from post to post, in his dangerous profession, until 
he fancies himself the commander of a great fleet. 
He wins brilliant victories; wealth, honors, fame, 
surround him. He is a great man. His name is in 
the mouth of the world. There is a circle of glory 
round his brow. Filled with the idea, he starts ! 
His young heart heaving with great purposes, his 
eyes gleaming with the fire of his enkindled soul, 
his slender form expanding to its utmost height, and 
his lips moving with energy, — he paces the silent 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 71 

deck, exclaiming, " I will be a hero ; and, confiding 
in Providence, I will brave every danger ! " 

Such was the romantic dream of young Horatio 
Nelson ; afterwards, the hero of the Nile, the victor 
of Trafalgar, and the greatest naval commander in 
the world ! And what young man has not had 
imaginings equally romantic ? Where is the poor 
sailor-boy who has not dreamed of glory and great- 
ness? What young law student has not seen in 
himself a future Littleton, Coke, or Story ? Where 
is the printer's apprentice who has not intended to 
be a Franklin ? What young mechanic has not, in 
fancy, written his name beside the names of Ark- 
wright, Fulton, or Rumford? What boyish artist 
has not, in imagination, rivalled Raphael or Michael 
Angelo ? What youthful orator has not gathered the 
glory of Burke, Chatham, or Patrick Henry, around 
his own name ? Nay ! There never was a young 
man, of any advantages, who did not rise to eminent 
success, in his hours of reverie. For, youth is the 
period of dreams, in which Queen Mab, with her 
fairy crew, holds undisputed reign over the imagina- 



72 young man's counsellor. 

tion, and revels at will in the hall of fancy, in the 
palace of the soul. 

But why, since all dream of greatness, do so few 
attain it ? Why stand Nelson, Story, Fulton, Burke. 
&c, alone, in the realization of their imaginings, 
among ten thousand of their peers, whose early 
dreams were as bright and as vivid as their own ? 
Why do so few young men distinguish themselves, 
out of the many whose hopes, purposes and resolves, 
are as radiant as the colors of the rainbow ? 

The answer is obvious. Young men are not will- 
ing to devote themselves to that process of slow, toil- 
some self-culture, which is the price of great success. 
Could they soar to eminence on the lazy wings of 
genius, the world would be filled with great men. 
But this can never be ; for, whatever aptitude for 
particular pursuits Nature may donate to her favorite 
children, she conducts none but the laborious and the 
studious to distinction. Cicero and Demosthenes, 
those unrivalled orators of antiquity, were diligent 
students. Sir William Jones, the greatest of oriental 
scholars ; Newton, the first of philosophers ; Burke 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 73 

the chief of modern orators ; Michael Angelo, the 
model of artists ; Haydn and Handel, those peerless 
masters of the musical art; John Quincy Adams, 
the diplomatist and statesman; all mounted the 
throne of their fame step by step. Their glory 
gathered around them by degrees. Each added ray 
was the result of intense application. It was not 
genius, so much as genius sedulously cultivated, 
that enabled them to write their names so high on 
the pillar of fame. Great men have ever been men 
of thought, as well as men of action. As the mag- 
nificent river, rolling in the pride of its mighty 
waters, owes its greatness to the hidden springs of 
the mountain nook, so does the wide-sweeping influ- 
ence of distinguished men date its origin from hours 
of privacy, resolutely employed in efforts after self- 
development. The invisible spring of self-culture is 
the source of every great achievement. 

Away, then, young man, with all dreams of superi- 
ority unless you are determined to dig after knowl- 
edge, as men search for concealed gold ! If you 
lack the resolution, the manly strength of purpose, 
7 



74 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

needed to bind you to reading, reflection, and study, 
you may bid adieu to all hope of marked success. 
Your destiny is settled. You will dwell in ignoble 
nothingness, far down the vale of obscurity. Your 
name will be " writ in water." 

Yet, why need you surrender all your cherished 
hopes of distinction ? The assured fact that the great 
mass of the young men of your age will spend their 
youth in frivolity and self-neglect, gives the individ- 
ual who is determined to be a fully developed man 
the greater certainty of rising above his peers. 
Resolve, therefore, to act a part worthy of that intel- 
lect with which God has endowed you ! Dare to 
contend for the palm of superiority ! 

Success is certain, if you do your best ; as says an 
eccentric writer, " Show me the man who has made 
the most of his faculties, and I will show you a 
being sublimated to the height of the angelic nature." 
This is strongly expressed ; but it nevertheless con- 
tains a great truth. Every man has in himself the 
seminal principle of great excellency. The reader 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFh 7S 

has it ; and he may develop it by cultivation, if he 
will try. t 

Perhaps you are what the world calls poor. "What 
of that? Most of the men whose names are as 
household words were also the children of poverty. 
Captain Cook, the circumnavigator of the globe, was 
born in a mud hut, and started in life as a cabin- 
boy. Nelson, England's greatest admiral, was only a 
coxswain in his youth. Lord Eldon, who sat on the 
woolsack, in the British Parliament, for nearly half 
a century, was the son of a coal-merchant. Frank- 
lin, the philosopher, diplomatist, and statesman, was 
but a poor printer's boy, whose highest luxury, at one 
time, was only a penny roll, eaten in the streets of 
Philadelphia. Ferguson, the profound philosopher, 
was the son of a half-starved weaver. Heyne, the 
renowned German scholiast, was born in a pooi 
peasant's cot. Burns, the bard of Scotland, ate the 
coarse bread of labor. The lamented Kirke White, 
the youthful poet, was the son of a butcher. White- 
field, the most renowned of pulpit orators, was the 
son of a tavern-keeper. John Wesley, the greatest 



ecclesiastical legislator of his age, was the son of a 
poor village vicar, whose scanty incom^ scarce sus- 
tained his numerous children. Johnson, Goldsmith, 
Coleridge, Keats, Crabbe, all knew the pressure of 
limited circumstances. Yet, they made themselves a 
name. They, with many others, have demonstrated 
that limited means, or poverty even, is no insuperable 
obstacle to success. Their history shows that the 
most stupendous difficulties may be defied and con- 
quered by steadily and perseveringly cultivating the 
mind ; and thus fitting it beforehand for the openings 
of Divine Providence. Poesy never sang more truly 
than in the following beautiful lines of Longfellow, 
in his " Psalm of Life : " 

" Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; 

" Footprints that, perhaps, another, 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
Seeing, may take heart again." 

Up ; then, young man, and gird yourself for the 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 77 

work of self-cultivation ! Set a high price on your 
leisure moments. They are sands of precious gold. 
Properly expended, they will procure for you a stock 
of great thoughts, — thoughts that will fill, stir, 
invigorate, and expand your soul. Seize also on the 
unparalleled aids furnished by steam and type, in this 
unequalled age. The great thoughts of great men are 
now to be procured at prices almost nominal. There- 
fore, you can easily collect a library of choice authors. 
Public lectures are also abundant in our large cities. 
Attend the best of them, and carefully treasure up 
their richest ideas. But, above all, learn to reflect 
even more than you read. Eeading is to the mind 
what eating is to the body; and reflection is similar 
to digestion. To eat, without giving nature time to 
assimilate the food to herself by the slower process 
of digestion, is to deprive her, first, of health, and 
then, of life; so, to cram the intellect by reading, 
without due reflection, is to weaken and paralyze the 
mind. He who reads thus has "his perceptions daz- 
zled and confused by the multitude of images pre- 
sented to them. And this, because he has not the 
7^ 



78 young man's counsellor. 

faculty of pausing at every point of interest; of 
weighing, searching, and questioning ; of arbitrating 
between truth and the author ; of improving hints, 
and verifying conclusions. Without thought, books 
are the sepulchres of the soul. They not only im- 
mure it, but, like thieves in the candle, while they 
obscure its light, they consume the bodily substance, 
and so hasten its dissolution." ^ But, let thought 
and reading go hand in hand, and the intellect will 
rapidly increase in strength and in gifts. Its pos- 
sessor will rise in character, in potentiality, in posi- 
tive influence. His success, his moral qualities 
being equal, will be assured. 

But here I have reached a point of the highest 
importance to every young man. And that point is, 
the necessity of religion to give right direction to 
the cultivated intellect. Mental power alone is not 
a guaranty of innocent and virtuous superiority. A 
life of study gave the philosophic Bacon power and 
renown ; but the absence of religious principle left 
him to disgraceful deeds, which will dim the lustre 

* Self-formation. 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 79 

of his fame forever. Men will honor his intellect, 
but despise his heart. So of Lord Byron, Rousseau, 
Voltaire, and others. Education is as a mighty 
steam-engine to a ship, — it gives her power ; — skil- 
fully regulated, it enables her to mount the loftiest 
wave, and wage successful war with the fiercest 
storm ; directed by violence and hate, it makes her 
powerful to destroy ; submitted to ignorance, it car- 
ries her to destruction on the rock, or rends her to 
fragments in mid air. Thus, education, controlled 
by rectitude, is powerful for good ; swayed by deprav- 
ity, it spreads destruction over society, and destroys 
its possessor. Tennyson thus beautifully paints an 
educated mind unsanctified by the spirit of God. 
He calls it 

" A sinful soul, possessed of many gifts ; 
A spacious garden, full of flowering weeds ; 
A glorious devil, large in heart and brain, 
That did love beauty only, (beauty seen 
In all varieties of mould and mind,) 
And knowledge for its beauty ; or, if good, 
Only for its beauty." 

Permit me to conduct you to an English village 



80 

as it appeared some two hundred years ago. As 
your eye wanders among its ancient cottages, with 
huge gable ends and roofs of thatched straw, let it 
rest upon a group of young men, surrounding one 
whose mean dress and bag of tools proclaim him to 
belong to the humble fraternity of travelling tinkers. 
He is the chief speaker; and his conversation is 
remarkable only for its extravagant profanity. With 
a vulgar air, and a boisterous manner, he rolls out a 
filthy stream of oaths from the fountain of a deeply 
polluted spirit. Suddenly, however, his vile speech 
is arrested by the presence of a low, forbidding crea- 
ture. An old, wrinkled crone, with little, twinkling 
eyes, a cracked voice, and a hand resting on each 
hip, pushes her way through the group, and, gazing 
earnestly in the blasphemer's face, exclaims, 

" You curse and swear at such an ungodly rate, 
that I tremble to hear you ! You are the ungodliest 
person for swearing I ever heard in my whole life ! " 

The young sinner stands amazed and stricken 
under this rebuke ; for, the reprover is herself noto- 
rious for vulgarity and cursing. Deep, big thoughts 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 81 

rush through his startled soul; he inwardly, but 
sternly, resolves to be a better man. That day's 
events form an epoch in his life. Ere long, it 
becomes known that the swearing tinker is trans- 
formed into the exemplary Christian. Soon, his 
voice is heard preaching Christ. Persecution breaks 
forth against him. The harpies of bigotry hunt him 
from the pulpit to the prison. For twelve years he 
lies confined in a miserable dungeon, whose walls 
are ever dripping with damp, for the notable offence 
of preaching the Gospel ! But, from that dim apart- 
ment, he sends forth a book, whose original concep- 
tion, grand and beautiful imagery, touching pathos, 
purity of style, and truthfulness to nature and expe- 
rience, give its author an almost unrivalled fame. 
And to-day, the tomb of John Bunyan, the con- 
verted tinker, the author of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
is sought out by the loftiest sons of genius, who 
stand upon the sweet dreamer's ashes, and sigh 
for the inspiration which gave enchantment to his 
pen. 

The point, in this illustration, which it is import- 



82 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

ant to the young man to notice, is, that it was relig- 
ion which called the hidden powers of Bunyan's 
intellect into exercise, and directed them to a holy 
end. But for religion, instead of being a star of 
surpassing beauty, shedding the purest rays of soft 
and holy light on the human intellect, he would have 
lived a loathsome human reptile, crawling in the 
dust, and spitting the venom of death upon mankind. 
He would have died 

u Silest, unseen, unnoticed, unlamented." 

To religion, therefore, as the grand stimulant, the 
mighty developing agent, of the human intellect, 
should every young man direct his fixed attention. 
A power of unknown extent resides in its great ideas. 
Great thoughts always stir the attentive mind, just 
as high winds cause the thick leaves of the tree to 
rustle. They enlarge it, too. The soul of a philos- 
opher lives in a wider sphere, and experiences nobler 
emotions, than the soul of a peasant, only because it 
has become conversant with the grandeur of the 
universe. Let the peasant employ the same means, 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 83 

and his confined spirit, bursting the cerements of 
its intellectual sepulchre, will soar freely into 
realms of glorious thought. But religion brings the 
soul into contact with loftier and grander ideas than 
belong to the province of philosophy. Before the 
gaze of a seeker after Christ, it unfolds the sublime 
idea of God. It leads forth the awakened mind, from 
the narrow boundaries of worldly thought, into the 
vastness of the Infinite ; and bids it stretch its pow- 
ers in the attempt to comprehend Eternity ! It 
reveals to the mind the consciousness of its own 
immortality ; to its moral perceptions it unfolds the 
stern grandeur of immutable justice, the tremendous 
results of evil, and the transcendent beauty of holi- 
ness. To soothe its fears and attract its hopes, 
it displays the idea of Love, as manifested in the 
character and death of the great God-man, Jesus 
Christ! 

It is impossible for the most stultified intellect to 
be brought into contact with these overwhelming 
thoughts, without being awakened from its slumbers, 
and startled into action. Hence, the introduction of 



84 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

the Christian religion to a nation is the epoch of its 
mental birth ; and the entrance upon a spiritual life 
has proved the birth-hour of a new intellectual life 
to thousands of individual Christians. It is the fault 
of its recipients that it is not so to all. 

Eeligion also strengthens, as well as awakens, the 
intellect. Its primary condition — faith in Christ 
— requires the highest exercise of the powers of 
abstraction and attention. For faith is the trustful 
gaze of the soul on the face of Jesus Christ, — the 
concentration of a sinner's mind and heart on the 
idea of a sin-forgiving God. It necessarily involves 
the exercise of complete abstraction, and powerful 
attention. As this faith is required to be habitual, 
its operations must strengthen these important facul- 
ties. Besides this, religion leads to the study of that 
great book, the Bible. Here are found the seeds 
of impregnating, healthy thought; — the sublimest 
poetry, the purest history, the most touching biogra- 
phy, and the profoundest philosophy. The study of 
these excellences naturally leads to that of collateral 
history, and to the highest exercises of the intellect 



INTELLIGENCE AN ELEMENT OF SUCCESS IN LIFE. 85 

so that it is impossible for a believer in Christ to be 
faithful to the duties and teachings of religion, with- 
out thereby developing his intellect, and becoming a 
man of power : as in the case of Bunyan, — of 
Newton, the admired author of the Olney hymns, — 
of Richard "Watson, the celebrated orator and theolo- 
gian, — and thousands more, whose mental strength 
lay hidden even from themselves, until called out by 
the power of divine truth. 

Behold, in these statements, young man, another 
argument in favor of a religious life ! Embrace 
Christ as the best, perhaps the only means of bring- 
ing your intellect into a state of vigorous and healthy 
life, — as the guardian angel of your genius, if it be 
already manifested ! Yield yourself up honestly and 
fully to the claims of God in Christ! Be a spiritual, 
intellectual Christian ! Thus shall your mental and 
moral powers grow in harmonious proportion. Your 
heart shall be warm with emotions of love, — your 
understanding strong, mature, potential, — your con- 
science illuminated, quick, and pure, — your will 

upright, controlling, and inflexible. These things 
8 



86 

being in you and abounding, you can hardly fail of 
success in the great battle of life, nor of rising to 
the honor of Christ's glorious kingdom in the life to 
come. Decide, therefore, oh young man ! to listen 
attentively to the voice of Jesus Christ. Let him 
woo you to himself, through the sweet lines of the 
sacred poet, who thus beautifully sings : — 

' ' The wild dove hath her nest ; 
Earth, in her bosom, shields the timid hare ; 
Flowers sleep 'neath heaven's azure fane ; but where, 
Except ye come to me, shall ye find rest ? 

" Ye of the troubled breast, 
Weighed down with sorrow, and of life aweary, 
Whose paths extend through deserts waste and dreary, 
Come, then, to me, — I will impart relief! 

" In life's glad summer come ; 
Earth's lovely things, the beautiful, the gay, 
Are they not swept as autumn leaves away ? 
So pass your hopes and visions to the tomb. 

11 Though by the world caressed, 
Though all its treasures glitter at your feet, 
And life's young years with rapture be replete, 
O, what are these to heaven — a heaven of rest ! * 



CHAPTER V. 

ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 

T is impossible ! " said one of Na- 
poleon's staff officers, in reply to 
his great commander's description 
of a plan for some daring enter- 
prise . 

" Impossible ! " cried the em- 
peror, with indignation frowning on 
*his brow, — "Impossible is the adjective 
of fools ! " 
This may be an apocryphal anecdote of 
the imperial conqueror; but it is at least 
characteristic. It displays that consciousness of 
power to overcome the mightiest obstacles, and to 
accomplish the most extravagant purposes, which 
was one of the chief elements of his early success. 
Its language is the strong expression of a mind 




88 young man's counsellor. 

charged with an energy alike irresistible and uncon- 
querable. And every young man, who hopes to 
stand triumphant at the goal of life, must possess a 
measure of this energy proportionate to the exigen- 
cies of his condition. 

Energy is force of character — inward power. It 
imports such a concentration of the will upon the 
realization of an idea, as enables the individual to 
march unawed over the most gigantic barriers, or to 
crush every opposing force that stands in the way 
of his triumph. Energy knows of nothing but suc- 
cess : it will not hearken to voices of discourage- 
ment : it never yields its purpose ; though it may 
perish beneath an avalanche of difficulty, yet it 
dies contending for its ideal. 

Longfellow's Excelsior is a beautiful embodi- 
ment of the idea of Energy. Its hero is a young 
man seeking genuine excellence : proving himself 
superior to the love of ease, the blandishments of 
passion, and the sternest outward difficulties. The 
reader beholds him ascending the rugged steeps of 
the upper Alps, at the dangerous hour of twilight. 



SNERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 89 

In his hand he bears a banner, whose strange device, 
" Excelsior," is the visible expression of his noble 
purpose, to attain the height of human excellence. 
His brow is sad, his eyes are gleaming with the 
light of lofty thought, his step is firm and elastic ; 
while his deep, earnest cry, " Excelsior ! " rings 
with startling effect among the surrounding crags 
and glaciers. Ease, in the form of an enchanting 
cottage, with its cheerful fire-side, invites him to 
reiax his effort. Danger frowns upon him, from the 
brow of the awful avalanche, and from the " pine 
tree's withered branch." Caution, in the person of 
an aged Alpine peasant, shouts in his ear and bids 
him beware ; while Love, in the form of a gentle 
maiden, with heaving breast and bewitching voice, 
woos him to her quiet bowers. But vain are the 
seductions of love, the voices of fear, or the aspects 
of danger. Regardless of each and of all, animated 
by his sublime aims, intent on success, he only 
grasps his mysterious banner more firmly, and bounds 
with swifter step along the dangerous steep. Through 
falling snows, along unseen paths, amidst intense 
8* 



90 young man's counsellor. 

darkness, beside the most horrible chasms, he pur- 
sues his way, cheering his spirit, and startling the 
ear of night, with his battle-cry, " Excelsior ! " until, 
on reaching the summit, in the moment of accom- 
plished purpose, his work done, his manly form 
chilled by the cold breath of the frost, he falls — yea, 
nobly falls — into the treacherous snow-drift, and 

" There in the twilight, cold and gray, 
Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, 
Excelsior ! " 

From the summit of human attainment on earth , 
he had gone to dwell in the blessed heaven of God. 
There his spirit, bathed in light, soars forever amidst 
the unspeakable glories of the Infinite. 

This is a beautiful ideal of an energetic youth tri- 
umphing, even to the salvation of his immortal soul. 
May the dream of the poet be realized in the experi- 
ence of the reader ! 

Energy is the soul of every great achievement ; 
while enervation emasculates the spirit, and dooms 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 91 

the man to obscurity and ill success. Men of feeble 
action are accustomed to attribute their misfortunes 
to what is vulgarly termed " ill luck" They envy 
the men who climb the ladder of eminence, and call 
them " the favorite children of fortune, — lucky men 
and men of peculiar opportunity." This is a vain 
and foolish imagination. It is not ill fortune, so 
much as an enervated mind, that keeps thousands in 
inglorious obscurity. The blundering student, who 
stammers out an ill-learned lesson in his college 
class, and gains his diploma, at last, through indul- 
gence rather than merit, owes his degraded position 
more to that voluntary mental imbecility which has 
ever shrunk from the labor of study, than to any 
absolute mental inferiority. His triumphant class- 
mate, who quits his college adorned with the proudest 
honors of his Alma Mater, is as much indebted to 
his persevering energy, as to his native genius, for 
nis honorable victory. He might, had he been 
equally supine, have been equally degraded with 
his unhonored class-mate. But his energy saved 
him. So, in all the other walks of life, energy pro- 



92 young man's counsellor. 

duces good fortune and success, while enervation 
breeds misfortune and " bad luck." 

If any young man desires a confirmation of these 
ideas, let him carefully study the history of every 
man who has written his name, on the walls of the 
Temple of Fame. Let him view such minds in their 
progress towards greatness. He will see them rising 
step by step, in the face of stubborn difficulties, which 
gave w T ay before them only because their courage 
would not be daunted, nor their energy wearied. 
He will find no exception, in the history of mankind. 
Supine, powerless souls have always fainted before 
hostile circumstances, and sank beneath their oppor- 
tunities; while men of power have wrestled with 
sublime vigor against all opposing men and things, 
and obtained success because they would not be 
defeated. 

I might illustrate these views from the biography 
of any eminent man ; but I select Christopher 
Columbus as peculiarly adapted to my purpose. He 
was the son of an obscure wool-comber, in indigent 
circumstances, at Genoa. His early education was 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 93 

limited. Bred to the profession of seamanship, and 
having a strong passion for geographical studies, his 
thoughtfu* mind conceived the idea that unknown 
empires existed west of the great Atlantic. He 
dwelt upon this thought, until it became fixed in his 
mind with singular firmness. It fired his soul with 
noble enthusiasm ; it gave elevation to his spirit ; it 
clothed his person with dignity, and inspired his 
demeanor with loftiness. Thus animated, he re- 
solved to realize the truth of his great conception. 
N o w came the test of his character. The idea itself 
was grand, and its conception bespoke the possession 
of a towering and glorious intellect. But, to make 
that conception a reality, to prove himself a true son 
of Genius, and not a mere romantic dreamer, required 
the exercise of such a measure of faith, self-reliance 
and enduring energy, as is seldom demanded of any 
man, even in the greatest of human enterprises. 

But Columbus felt equal to his work, and he set 
about it with a purpose to do it. How sublime does 
he appear, in his conflict with poverty, ridicule, and 
ignorance ! The announcement of his beloved idea 



94 young man's counsellor. 

was greeted with torrents of derisive sarcasm, from 
prince and peasant, from learned savans and stupid 
dunces. Powerless and moneyless himself, he re- 
quired the patronage of the powerful. Hence, he 
placed himself at the foot of the Portuguese throne, 
stated his views, and demanded ships to explore the 
Ocean. Treated with fraud unworthy of a court, the 
intrepid man fled to Genoa, and importuned for aid 
in his native city. Unable to rouse the ambition of 
his countrymen, he repaired to Venice, and met with 
similar disappointment. From thence, he travelled 
to Spain, and plead his cause before the lordly Ferd- 
inand and his great-minded queen, Isabella. There 
he was amused with promises of ships and men, for 
several years, during which time he perseveringly 
followed the court in its frequent journeyings. At 
last, wearied with their delays, but still resolute in 
his purpose, he prepared to quit Spain, and turned 
his footsteps towards the court of France. Arrested 
on his journey by the persuasions of an intelligent 
Tionk, he returned to Isabella's court, obtained the 



ENERGY -AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 95 

long delayed means, and set sail on seas who.se 
waters had never been cleaved by a vessel's prow. 

With what high and confident expectation did 
the adventurous discoverer pass the boundaries of 
former navigation ! With what patient zeal did he 
overcome the superstition which made cowards of 
his mariners, and the ignorant envy which very 
nearly converted them into mutineers ! By the 
force of his own indomitable will alone, he soothed 
their fears, and held them to their duties, until he 
proudly anchored his vessels off the shores of the 
New World. And when the haughty flag of Spain 
flaunted in the breezes of the western hemisphere, 
as the sign of its subjugation to the crown of Isabella, 
it chiefly proclaimed the moral majesty of that un 
conquerable energy through which the noble-minded 
Columbus had singly defied the most formidable 
obstacles, and revealed a hidden world to the won- 
dering eyes of mankind. 

Are you, my reader, an aspirant after distinguished 
success? Then, you must diligently cultivate an 
untiring, persisting, victorious energy, like that which 



96 young man's counsellor. 

gave Columbus his renown. Is your lot lowly, and 
your sphere very limited? Are your difficulties 
apparently insurmountable ? What then ? Are you 
therefore to write yourself a nothing, and remain a 
cipher in society ? Nay ! You must rather bring 
an irresistible force of character to bear upon every 
work of life. Be supine in nothing ! Never despair 
of success in any judicious enterprise! Resolve to 
accomplish whatever you undertake; and though 
you may not discover a new world, like Columbus : 
nor introduce mankind to the occult mysteries of 
nature, like Newton ; nor attain the wealth of Roths- 
child, or Astor ; yet, you may climb to the summit 
of your profession, attain to honorable distinction, 
and transmit to your posterity that most valuable of 
all bequests — a good name. 

Yet you must beware of rashness. Successful en- 
ergy is a Bucephalus, guided by the hand of an Alex- 
ander ; rashness is as Mazeppa's fiery steed, unbridled 
and unrestrained, bearing its rider over hill and dale, 
to probable destruction. The former is power, guided 
by wisdom ; the latter is power, goaded to act by 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 97 

blind impulses. Many men, now pining in discour- 
agement, have expended energy sufficient for the 
highest success. But they have failed of their re- 
ward, because they sought not for counsel at the lips 
of wisdom. Eash enterprises, impetuously begun> 
hurried them to ruin. In their business, they resem- 
bled an oriental warrior, named Derail, who was 
once sent, with a small force, by Abu Beker, the 
Moslem caliph, to hinder the progress of an advanc- 
ing army, near the plains of Damascus. Derar found 
the foe to consist of masses of troops sufficient to 
overwhelm his little band ; but, instead of hovering 
round their flank, and harassing their march, he 
foolishly resolved on a regular attack. His voice 
thundered his battle-cry, and, followed by the flowei 
of his chivalric soldiers, he rushed, with the fury 
of a whirlwind, upon the astonished enemy. So 
fiery was his onset, that the foe gave way, and their 
rich standard fell into the hands of the bold assailant. 
But his success was of brief duration; numbers 
speedily prevailed, and Derar fell wounded into the 
hands of his enemies. Every Moslem in his devoted 
9 



98 young man's counsellor. 

little troop would have perished, but for the timely 
approach of the main body of the Arab army, which 
arrived in season to rescue them from destruction. 

Thus has many a mercantile Derar rushed madly 
upon an army of debts, which, after harassing him 
into a premature old age, have led him forth, a poor, 
dispirited creature, into the bondage of bankruptcy. 

Beware, then, young man, of mistaking rashness 
for energy ! They are so nearly allied that the mis- 
take is easy. To guard you as much as possible, I 
will draw a simple sketch of a rash man, plunging, 
through excess of energy, — which is the same thing 
with rashness, — into business ruin. 

I will call him Edgar. In his youth he was ap- 
prenticed to a respectable tailor, became a superior 
workman, and, as soon as his apprenticeship expired, 
determined, without capital, and contrary to the ad- 
vice of all his friends, to commence business on his 
own account. His reputation as a good apprentice 
procured him credit. He hired a store, purchased a 
small stock of goods, and rejoiced to see his name 
shining in gilt letters as a merchant tailor. Custom 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 99 

came in freely ; success seemed sure, notwithstand- 
ing the fears of his cautious friends. He redoubled 
his efforts, increased his stock, ornamented his store, 
and made quite a stir among business men. Such 
were his activity, punctuality and industry, that his 
business continued to advance ; and in a year or two 
it exceeded that of many older firms in his vicinity. 
He now married, and for a time everything went on 
prosperously. But he was ambitious of having the 
finest store, and the largest stock, of any dealer in 
his line of business. Hence he constantly purchased 
beyond the necessities of his business. As a se- 
quence, his notes matured before the means came in, 
and he began to be seen in the street, running from 
store to store, with the question, " Have you any- 
thing over to-day ? " 

The frequency of these calls, and the difficulty he 
found in promptly repaying the sums thus generously 
loaned, awakened suspicion as to his safety, and his 
fellow-merchants soon met his question with an 
almost universal negative. This ought to have 
checked his passion for a large stock. But, eager as 



100 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

ever for display, he persisted in buying beyond the 
immediate demands of his trade. As a thrifty mer- 
chant, too, he thought he must elevate his style of 
living. A better house, expensive furniture, a ser- 
vant, the luxuries of the table, soon absorbed large 
portions of his profits. Still, his notes came to 
maturity with alarming rapidity. Driven to extrem- 
ity, he resorted to that side-door to ruin, a broker's 
office. Exorbitant interest only increased his em- 
barrassments. His temper grew sour ; visions of ruin 
and bankruptcy floated before his eyes, and made 
him nervous and unhappy. He struggled, like a 
giant in bonds, for a few years ; but, after growing 
prematurely gray in the conflict, he was forced to 
submit. His disgraced name appeared in the Gazette ; 
and to-day Edgar sits on the bench, laboring for a 
scanty support, as an unknown journeyman tailor — 
a discouraged man ! 

It is easy for the reader to see that Edgar ruined 
himself by excess of energy ; or, in other words, by 
rashness. Had he taken prudent advice at the be- 
ginning, and acquired a small capital in advance; 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 101 

had he then wisely regulated his purchases by his 
actual resources, and restrained his personal ex- 
penses within the limit of his means, his strong force 
of character would have placed him among the first 
men of his class. But he was rash, and therefore 
he was ruined. His example is placed before the 
young merchant, that, as a beacon upon a sunken rock 
warns the mariner of danger, it may save him from 
a similar fate. 

The energy of many men is impulsive. It is to- 
day a dashing, roaring torrent ; to-morrow, it is a 
stagnant pool. An accidental circumstance will call 
oat every power of their souls, and, for a season, 
they will excel themselves, and startle their friends. 
But they speedily spend their force, and lapse into 
stupid somnolency, until roused again by some bugle 
blast of excitement. Such minds accomplish but 
little. They lose more in their slumbers than they 
gain in their fitful hours of action. The calm, steady 
energy of the snail, slow as are its movements, is 
better calculated to produce results, than the spas- 
modic leaps of the hare. Hence, in the formation 
9* 



102 young man's counsellor. 

• 

of character, it is of vital importance to cultivate a 
steady, uniform, unyielding energy. 

But how is this high qualification to be gained ? 
Where is this precious possession to be obtained ? 1 
know of no means so certain and effectual as that 
of surrendering the soul to the claims of religion, 
the direct tendency of which is to call the whole 
force of the intellect and the affections into the high- 
est and healthiest state of action. What is the 
grand central command of the Bible ? " Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy 
soul, and with all thy MIGHT ! " Here you see 
that energy of the loftiest character is demanded of 
the Christian. Nor is the command permitted to 
approach him as an impossible attainment ; for, to 
every sincere creature who resolves to submit to the 
commandment, the promise of God says, " My grace 
is sufficient for thee" Thus, divine power works 
with the human, and the man, in the might of his 
soul, stands forth as the servant of God. 

Nor is it in his religious duties alone that the 
Christian is required and enabled to be energetic. 



ENERGY AN ELEMENT OF DISTINCTION. 103 

The Scriptures demand the application of a similar 
force of mind to all the duties of life. With au- 
thority they thunder in the ears of the disciple, 
" Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with 
thy might ! " Thus, whether his work be to fell a 
tree, to plough a field, to build a house, to labor in 
the pulpit, to plead at the bar, or to pray in the 
closet, the law is, " do it with thy might ! " 

There is a profound meaning in this command, 
rarely observed. It contains the philosophy of 
growth, and of greatness. It teaches that it is by 
the exercise of energy, in little things, we are to 
acquire power to triumph in great ones ; that what 
we find to be done, we are to do — not to shrink 
from doing, because of its difficulty. Thus, by de- 
grees, the soul is trained to put forth a force propor- 
tionate to its tasks ; it grows in might, and conquers 
by habit. Everything it does is well done. It lives 
to subdue opposing forces. Instead of being the 
sport of circumstances, it seizes them as their master, 
and its career is one of perpetual triumph. 

Would you have energy, young man ? Seek it 



104 young man's counsellor. 

at the cross of Christ ! Let the spirit of Jesus clothe 
you with its divine beauty, and stimulate you by its 
mighty, life-giving force ! Only be true to its holy 
promptings, and you will surely acquire the energy 
which grapples successfully with the obstacles of 
this terrestrial life, and climbs to the height of the 
celestial and eternal land. 



CHAPTER VI. 

INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 

HAVE somewhere read an old 
legend, which, however false in 
fact, contains a precious lesson. 
It states that, some centuries ago, 
•a man, resident in Egypt, became 
a convert to the Christian faith. 
The spirit of the times favored ascet- 
icism ; and he, being of a contempla- 
tive mind, conceived the unnatural idea 
that if he could retire far from human 
society, and spend his days in solitary 
contemplation, he should attain to the perfection 
of human happiness on earth. Filled with this 
thought, he bade adieu to the abodes of men, wan- 
dered far into the desert, selected a cave, near 
which flowed a living spring, for his home, and, 




106 5TOUNG M4.N'S counsellor 

subsisting on the scanty crops of roots and herbs 
which sprang up spontaneously in the adjacent 
glens and valleys, began his life of meditation and 
prayer. 

He had not spent many seasons in his hermitage 
before his solitary heart grew miserable beyond 
endurance. The long, weary hours of the day, and 
the dreary, interminable night, oppressed and crushed 
his listless soul. In the extremity of his wretched- 
ness, he fell upon his face, and cried, " Father, call 
home thy child ! Let me die ! I am weary of 
life ! " 

Thus, stricken with grief, he fell asleep ; and in 
his vision an angel stood before him, and spake, 
saying : " Cut down the palm-tree that grows beside 
yon spring, and of its fibres construct a rope ! " 

The vision passed away, and the hermit awoke 
with a resolution to fulfil his mission. But he had 
no axe, and, therefore, journeyed far to procure 
one. On his return, he felled the tree, and diligently 
labored until its fibres lay at his feet, formed into 
a coil of rope. Again the angel stood before him, 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 107 

and said, " Dominic, you are now no longer weary 
of life, but you are happy. Know, then, that man 
was made for labor; and prayer also is his duty. 
Both ar? essential to his happiness. Go, therefore, 
mto the world, with this rope girded upon thy loins. 
Let it be a memorial to thee of what God expects 
from man ! " 

This beautiful legend illustrates a truth which 
every young man should engrave on his heart — 
that industry is essential to the enjoyment of life. 
It is a law of the human constitution that mankind 
shall find their happiness and their development 
in action. And it were as easy to grasp the forked 
lightning, or to stay the fiery waves of the volcano, 
as to contravene this law. Nay! it cannot be; 
for He who said, " In the siveat of thy face shalt 
thou eat bread till thou return unto the ground" 
has established this inseparable connection between 
industry and enjoyment. 

Industry implies regular and habitual devotion 
to a useful pursuit. It is covetous of moments, 
and guards them as a miser his grains of gold. 



1U8 oung man's counsellor. 

Moments, to the industrious man, are as flowers 
to bees; they furnish him with the opportunity 
of accomplishing his ends. He beholds in them 
the fractional parts of his life, and applies the 
maxim of the economist to their expenditure. His 
rule is : " Take care of the moments, and the 
years will take care of themselves." He is assidu- 
ous, not as a "hen over an addled egg" but to 
bring benefit out of his assiduity. He knows that 
it is possible to be always "busy about nothing," 
like iEropus, the Macedonian king, who wasted 
his life while busy in making lanterns! or, like 
Prince Bonbennin, in Goldsmith's " Citizen of the 
World," who was never more idle than when trav- 
ersing his kingdom, searching after a pretty " white 
mouse with green eyes." 

Behold yon graceful and sprightly " swallow zig- 
zagging over the clover-field, skimming the limpid 
lake, whisking round the steeple, or dancing gayly in 
the sky ! Behold him in high spirits, shrieking out 
his ecstasy, as he has bolted a dragon-fly, or darted 
f hrough the arrow slits of an old turret, or performed 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 109 

some other feat of hirundine agility ! And notice 
how he pays his morning visits — alighting elegantly 
on some house-top, and twittering politely, by turns, 
to the swallow on either side of him ; and after five 
minutes' conversation, off and away, to call for his 
friend at the castle. And now he is gone upon his 
travels — gone to spend the winter at Rome or 
Naples, to visit Egypt or the Holy Land, or perform 
some more recherche pilgrimage to Spain or the 
coasts of Barbary. And when he comes home next 
April, sure enough he has been abroad : charm- 
ing climate — highly delighted with the cicadas in 
Italy, and the bees on Hymettus — locusts in Africa 
rather scarce this season ; but, upon the whole, much 
pleased with his trip, and returned in high health 
and spirits." 

Such is the severe satire which the popular Eobert 
Hamilton employs to chastise that large class of 
busy idlers which abounds in Europe, and which is 
fast multiplying in America. How degraded a thing 
is life as thus spent by a fashionable young man of 

the world, whose " chief end " seems to consist in 
10 



110 

puffing cigars, and in conforming as near as may be 
to the example of the swallow in the above picture 
No wonder that long before such young men attain 
meridian, they exclaim, with " Croaker," in Gold- 
smith's "Good-natured Man," that "Life at the 
greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be 
humored and coaxed a little, till it falls asleep, and 
then all the care is over." Shame on such young 
men ! Beside them, the twittering swallow is honor- 
able and elevated. The bird was made for such a 
life, and thus fulfils its destiny ; but that silly youth 
was made to be a man ! — to commune with God. to 
labor in the holy charities and sublime duties of 
life. 

To be industrious, then, a young man must have a 
useful pursuit and a worthy aim. He must follow 
that pursuit diligently. Eising early and economiz- 
ing his moments, he must earnestly persist in his 
toil, adding little by little to his capital stock of ideas, 
influence or wealth. He must learn to glory in his 
labor, be it mechanical, agricultural, or professional. 
He must impress himself deeply with the idea that 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. Ill 

a life of idleness is one of the direst of all curses. 
The doctrine that labor, even of the humblest char- 
acter, is dishonorable, he must resolutely trample in 
the dust, as false and dangerous ; and contend that 
an industrious, honest scavenger is really a more 
honorable man than the most fashionable dandy, 
who idles away his time on the pavements of Broad- 
way, in ladies' drawing-rooms, in cafes, and in 
theatres. Thus, eschewing false ideas, and making 
every moment fruitful of some good to mind or body, 
to himself or to others, he cannot fail of a plenteous 
harvest of advantages as life advances. " Seest thou 
a man diligent in his business ? He shall stand 
before kings. He shall not stand before mean men" 
" The hand of the diligent shall rule" 

I love to honor those men who are the actual of 
the ideal in the sacred texts just quoted — the pedes- 
tal of whose honorable and elevated position has 
been hewed out of the reluctant granite by then own 
labor-loving hands. What is a haughty duke or 
earl, with his lofty ancestry running back through a 
thousand years, when compared with an industrious 



112 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

son of labor, whose patent of nobility is found in his 
own noble struggles with early poverty and obscur- 
ity ? Let the heart of the young man answer this 
question ! 

Permit me to lead you, for a moment, my reader, 
into yonder printing-office. Among the printers are 
two young men who are noted for the unwearied 
assiduity with which they ply their daily tasks. 
Always in the office at the appointed hour, ever at 
their posts, toiling with uncomplaining steadiness, 
never yielding to the lassitude which craves a respite 
before its work is finished, they have secured the 
respect of their employers, the confidence of their 
friends, and are slowly improving their own con- 
dition. Concerning these young men, suppose I 
predict that they will one day become widely known 
and immensely rich. What do you reply ? 

You pronounce my prediction an extravagance, 
and me a visionary man ! Be it so. Yet under the 
guise of this fancy I have exhibited only a simple 
fact. The two young men represent Messrs. James 
\nd John Harper, who, some thirty years ago, were 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 113 

poor journeymen printers; but who, to-day, are 
owners of one of the most princely publishing estab- 
lishments in the world. Their names are household 
words in all civilized communities. And of Mr. 
James Harper it may be said, that, if not, like the 
Whittington of our boyish reveries, thrice Lord 
Mayor of London, he has been once Mayor of the 
chief city in the great Empire State. But his proud- 
est distinction is, that he and his brothers have 
reared their magnificent house on the foundations 

of INTEGRITY, ECONOMY, AND INDUSTRY ! 

The success of industrious effort finds a further 
illustration in the case of a little boy named Arm- 
strong, who, a few years ago, entered a Boston print- 
ing-office, and labored diligently, as the youngest 
apprentice, at the lowest tasks of the establishment. 
Sedulously attending to his duties as they increased 
in responsibility, he kept on his steady way, until, 
honorably concluding his apprenticeship, he began 
business for himself at the corner of Flag-alley, in 
State-street. Unwearied in his devotion to his pro- 
fession, his custom and profits increased. Wealth 
10* 



114 



poured in apace upon him. Honors crowned his 
brow ; and he took his seat, first in the General Court, 
then in the honorable chair of the Boston Mayor- 
alty, and at length in that of the Lieutenant Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts. He spent the closing 
years of his life in a pleasant and stately mansion, 
an affluent, honorable, and independent man — a 
noble example of what may be accomplished by the 
aids of industry.^ 

The amount of profitable labor that a man can 
healthfully accomplish during a life of threescore 
years can hardly be overrated. The examples of 
preeminently industrious men startle ordinary minds, 
and they surmise that some friendly hand drew 
their portraits, and was too lavish in the coloring. 
But facts are demonstrative that wonders can be 
accomplished by industry, in every department of 
human life. 

William Cobbett, whom Ebenezer Elliot de- J 
signated as England's 

* See notice of Lieut. Gov. Armstrong, by Mr. Buckingham, in 
the Boston Courier. 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 115 

11 Mightiest peasant born," 

is an illustration. He was of low birth, and was 
reared in poverty. While yet a young man, he 
enlisted into the British army. After serving eight 
years, he was discharged, and shortly after com- 
menced his political career. From that time to his 
death, embracing a period of forty-three years, — 
during which he travelled extensively, suffered im- 
prisonments for political offences, devoted much time 
to agricultural pursuits, labored incessantly as a 
political agitator, and finally became a member of the 
British Parliament, — he produced and published no 
less than fifty books of various sizes, and on a variety 
of topics, besides editing ninety volumes of his politi- 
cal papers ! the effect of which on the destinies of 
England justifies the strong lines of the lamented 
Corn-law Ehymer, who thus addresses his memory ■ 

"Dead oak, thou livest! Thy smitten hands, 

The thunder of thy brow, 
Speak with strange tongues in many lands, 
And tyrants hear thee now ! " 

Now, it is not the character of Cobbett that 1 



116 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

commend to your imitation, but his industry. With 
all his power, energy and talent, notwithstanding his 
pen made the aristocracy of England tremble before 
its terrible strokes, he was, in my opinion, " a bold, 
bad man," actuated by passion, hate and prejudice, 
rather than by high and holy principles. Still, his 
laborious diligence is worthy of all commendation, 
and it is to this, rather than to natural talent, that 
he himself ascribes his superiority over the millions 
above whose head he rose to distinction. A diligent 
husbandry of his time was the talisman by which he 
achieved his prodigious labors; and this is within 
the power of every young man, who may also, in his 
turn, astonish and shame the drones among mankind 
by the huge measure of his labors, if he will employ 
his time after the example of William Cobbett.^ 

Martin Luther, Richard Baxter, John Wesley, 
Adam Clarke, Richard Watson, Napoleon Bonaparte, 
Elihu Burritt, and a host beside, might be quoted as 
demonstrations of what may be done by an industri- 

* For a very fair critique on the life and labors of Cobbett, sea 
Stanton's "Sketches of Reforms and Reformers," page 155. 



IHDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 117 

ous employment of moments during a life-time. 
But what does it avail to multiply examples ? Let 
the young man resolve to become an example him- 
self. Determine to make the most of your opportu- 
nities, my young friend ; and henceforth act on the 
principle that moments are grains of gold, by the 
careful gathering of which you are to become rich in 
knowledge, in experience, in honor, and in happi- 
ness. 

It is often objected, that unceasing and assiduous 
devotion to a round of duties is unfavorable to 
health. The pale face and emaciated form of the 
student, the feeble frame of the trembling dyspeptic, 
and the dying aspect of the flushed consumptive, are 
pointed out as illustrations of the disastrous influence 
of toil on the enjoyment and duration of life, and 
as* arguments in favor of self-indulgence and indolent 
relaxation. 

Away with all such pleas and arguments, my 
young friend ! They are the voices of sloth. True, 
a man may overtax his powers, and injure his health, 
by excessive toil, as was, no doubt, the case with the 



118 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

unfortunate Henry Kirke White. He was un- 
wisely ambitious, and attempted tasks with a consti- 
tutionally feeble body, which, wdth the most robust 
health, he could scarcely have performed. Such a 
fact teaches that we must proportion our labors to 
our capacities, — not that we are to sink into supine 
indulgence, lest we should be sick. Nay, it is not 
unrelaxing industry, systematically pursued, that 
pales the face and shortens life. The fact is, that the 
most industrious men are among the longest livers ; 
and except where hereditary diseases enfeeble them, 
are usually healthy. Indeed, industry is favorable 
to health. There is great meaning in the remark 
of an eastern missionary who was laboring inces- 
santly on the translation of the Scriptures into the 
Hindostan tongue. His friends expostulated with 
him, and begged him to relax. "Nay," said he; 
" the man who would live in India must have plenty 
of work. If not, he will yield to the enervating in- 
fluence of the climate, and lounge away his days 
upon the sofa, and consequently be tossing all night 
on his sleepless couch, for want of the requisite 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 119 

fatigue. Then comes dejection of spirits, and pros- 
tration of the whole man." 

The missionary was right. Indolence destroys 
more than industry; and many a drone who has 
perished prematurely, had his friends been equally 
honest with Sir Horace Vere, would have had it 
said of him, as that nobleman said of his brother, 
when the Marquis of Spinola asked, " Pray, Sir 
Horace, of what did your brother die ? " 

" He died of having nothing to do ! " was the bluff 
knight's reply. 

When I am told, of a sickly student, that he is 
" studying himself to death," or of a feeble young 
mechanic, or clerk, that his hard work is destroying 
him, I study his countenance, and there, too often, 
read the real, melancholy truth in his dull, averted, 
sunken eye, discolored skin, pimpled forehead, and 
timid manner. These signs proclaim that the young 
man is in some way violating the laws of his physi- 
cal nature. He is secretly destroying himself ! By 
sinning against his own body, he is preparing him- 
self for the insane asylum, or for an early grave. 



120 young man's counsellor. 

Yet, say his unconscious and admiring friends, " He 
is falling a victim to his own diligence ! " Most 
lame and impotent conclusion ! He is sapping the 
source of life with his own guilty hands, and ere 
long will be a mind in ruins or a heap of dust . 
Young man, beware of his example ! " Keep 
thyself pure ; " observe the laws of your physical 
nature, and the most unrelaxing industry will never 
rob you of a moment's health, nor in the smallest 
measure shorten the thread of your life ; for indus- 
try and health are companions, and long life is the 
heritage of diligence. 

Behold a cottage at the foot of yonder mountain ! 
On its broken gate sits a lifeless-looking man, with 
an unstrung bow lying across his knees, and a quiver 
of arrows strung across his shoulders. A deer, with 
its delicate young fawn, comes lightly tripping from 
among the foliage which adorns the mountain slope. 
Lifting up his heavy eyes, the hunter perceives his 
prey, and, for a moment, kindles into something like 
an earnest man. Leaping from the gate, he strains 
his bow, fixes an arrow on its string, and gliding 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 121 

from tree to bush and from bush to tree, approaches 
the unwatchful deer; then drawing his bow, he 
lodges an arrow in the heart of the fawn. Seating 
himself beside it, he triumphs a while in his suc- 
cess ; and then, seeking the shadow of an adjacent 
tree, slumbers away the day, and permits the burn- 
ing sun to spoil his vension ! 

Such is the picture of an idle man, as sketched by 
Solomon, in these words : " The slothful man roast- 
eth not that which he took in hunting." I have filled 
up his slender outline, that the young man may 
study it to better advantage ; for in this instance, 
at least, the poetic sentiment is literally true, that 
the monstrous spectacle of vice is sufficient to excite 
disgust. I greatly misjudge the reader, if he does 
not heartily despise the idle hunter in the above 
etching : if he will transfer his scorn to the vice the 
hunter personates, my end will be accomplished. 

To be above the necessity of labor, — to spend life 

in doing nothing, — is the fancied paradise of many 

youthful minds. Yielding to these illusive dreams, 

they cultivate a hatred for labor; they view the 

11 



122 young man's counsellor. 

necessity which binds them to the counting-room 01 
the workshop as the galley-slave regards his chain. 
They envy every gay son of pleasure whose empty 
laugh is heard ringing through the street. Hence 
their labor is irksome — their temper sour and repul- 
sive. Their manners become insulting and vexatious 
to their employers ; their incessant complainings an- 
noy their parents, and misery spreads throughout the 
entire circle of their influence. Thousands of par- 
ental hearts are aching at this moment, and thou- 
sands of employers are unhappy with their appren- 
tices, solely from this foolish, guilty aspiration after 
nothing to do which haunts the imaginations of so 
many young men. 

But why do young men pant after an idle life ? 
It is because they are wilfully ignorant of the import- 
ant practical truth, that the Creator could hardly 

INFLICT A GREATER CURSE UPON A YOUNG MAN THAN 
TO DOOM HIM TO A LIFE OF IDLENESS ! It Would 

destroy him, soul and body. What is a mind when 
controlled by idleness ? Let the admired Tennyson 
reply. Personating an idle mind, he f;ays : 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. • 123 

11 A spot of dull stagnation, without light 
Or power of movement seemed my soul. 
Mid onward sloping motions of the infinite, 
Making for one sure goal. 

" A still salt pool, locked in with bars of sand ; 
Left on the shore ; that hears all night 
The plunging seas draw backward from the land 
Their moon-led waters white. 

11 A star that with the choral starry dance 
Joined not, but stood, and standing saw 
The hollow orb of moving circumstance 
Rolled round by one fixed law." 

If you are ambitious to be " a spot of dull stagna 
tion, ,, " a still salt pool," or a motionless star, be idle^ 
and you shall assuredly reach the limit of your am 
bition. But oh, it is a costly price to pay for idle- 
ness ! Nor is the intellect the only sufferer. The 
heart, the moral character, and even the physi- 
cal man, share in the dreadful curse. The heart of 
an idle man is an open common, inviting the pres- 
enze of every odious vice, which enters in, and 
makes it utterly loathsome. Instead of waiting to 
be tempted, it " positively tempts the devil ;" and 
while " the busy man is troubled with but one. devil, 



121* YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

the idle man is visited by a thousand." Idleness 
first draws its victim from honorable labors, and then 
whips him into theatres, cafes, gambling saloons, 
and darker dens of infamy. It denudes him of all 
moral beauty and excellency, strips him of self- 
respect, plunges him into ruin, disease and degra- 
dation ; having bound him hand and foot, it plunges 
his body into an unhonored grave, and consigns his 
soul to " everlasting destruction from the presence of 
the Lord, and from the glory of his power" Well 
hath Holy Writ described the ruin of the indolent 
man ! He began by hating labor, and crying, " Yet a 
little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the 
/lands to sleep." The first visible effect of his sloth 
was seen in his field and vineyard, " which was all 
grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the 
face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken 
down" Unalarmed by this growing desolation, the 
sluggard maintained his hatred of toil, until, as the 
stroke of war falls upon an unsuspecting hamlet, or 
a traveller, long on the way, arrives at last, so 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 125 

poverty and want overwhelmed him in irretrievable 
destruction. 

Perhaps my reader replies to this deeply shaded 
scene, that such ruin is an extreme case, and not 
likely to occur to young men generally. True, it is 
extreme ; but it is equally true that vast numbers of 
young men annually sink thus from positions of 
high promise into utter abandonment and destruc- 
tion. But admit that the idle youth so trims be- 
tween sloth and industry as to avoid utter ruin, — ■ 
what then ? He lives a useless, insignificant life. 
His place in society is aptly illustrated by certain 
books in a Boston library, which are lettered " Suc- 
cedaneum " on their backs. " Succedaneum ! " ex- 
claims the visiter ; " what sort of a book is that ? " 
Down it comes ; when lo ! a wooden block, shaped 
just like a book, is in his hands. Then he under- 
stands the meaning of the occult title to be, " In the 
place of another; " and that the wooden book is used 
to fill vacant places, and to keep genuine volumes 
from falling into confusion. Such is an idler in 

society. A man in form, but a block in fact. Liv- 
11* 



126 young man's counsellor. 

ing for no high end, giving out no instruction — a 
dumb, despised " Succedaneum" among mankind. 

Nor is this all. Behold such a man drawing 
nigh to the end of his existence ! His pampered and 
slothful body is tossing upon an uneasy bed. His 
pale face betokens his approach to the hour of final 
conflict. His life now passes in sad review before 
his closing eyes ! How like a desert waste it looks ! 
Vainly he searches for some solitary sign that he 
has not lived in vain. Nought but the dead level 
of a sandy plain appears. Groaning with anguish, 
he cries out : 

" My life has been as the passage of a ship over 
the ocean ! — as the journey of a pilgrim across a 
desert ! Not a token of my industry, not a trace of 
my footsteps ! No ! no more than if my mother had 
not borne me ! " 

And with this melancholy utterance, he trembles, 
shudders, and expires ! 

And now, young man, having said enough to 
convince you that your highest interests require of 
you a life of cheerful labor, I demand your solemn 



INDUSTRY THE HIGHWAY TO SUCCESS. 127 

resolve to become a true son of industry. I know 
all the witcheries of those things which incline you 
to idleness ; the strength of the tendency to sloth in 
your own breast, and the many failures at self- 
conquest which are recorded in your past history. 
But I also know, that if you will seek the aids of 
religion, they will prove sufficient for your utmost 
needs. Eeligion will teach you that industry is a 
solemn duty you owe to God, whose command is, Be 
" diligent in business ! " Who says of every dis- 
ciple of his Son, " Let him labor, working with his 
hands the thing which is good, that he may have to 
give to him that needeth" Eeligion will shed lustre 
upon your meanest toils, by converting them into so 
many acts of service to Almighty God. It will cheer 
your labors with beams of beauty and glory, from 
those realms of eternal rest where employment will 
be unaccompanied by toil. It will fill your soul with 
contentment and joy, submission and hope ; and arm 
you with strength to " come off more than conqueror " 
over all foes to industry and purity, " through Christ 
who loved you, and gave himself for you." The 



128 young man's counsellor. 

burdens of life thus lightened of their weight, you 
shall endure them cheerfully, so that, whenever you 
fall in the embrace of death, it may be said of you, 
in the words of Aldich : 

" His sufferings ended with the day, 
Yet lived he at its close ; 
And breathed the long, long night away 
In statue-like repose. 

{ But when the sun, in all his state, 
Illumed the eastern skies, 
He passed through glory's morning gate, 
And walked in Paradise." 



CHAPTER VII. 

ECONOMY AND TACT. 

g^ S the acquisition of knowledge 
depends more upon what a man 
remembers than upon the quan- 
tity of his reading, so the acqui- 
[^ sition of property depends more 
upon what is saved than upon 
what is earned. The largest reservoirs, 
though fed by abundant and living 
springs, will fail to supply their owners 
with water, if secret leaking-places are per- 
mitted to drain off their contents. In like 
manner, though by his skill and energy a 
man may convert his business into a flowing Pac- 
tolns, ever depositing its golden sands in his coffers, 
yet, through the numerous wastes of unfrugal habits, 
he may live embarrassed and die poor. Economy is 




130 



the guardian of property — the good genius whose 
presence guides the footsteps of every prosperous and 
successful man. 

Economy is a trite and forbidding theme. The 
young man will feel tempted to pass it by, and pro- 
ceed to the next chapter. But I beseech him to read 
on, since his social advancement depends, in a good 
degree, upon his frugality. He had better be doomed, 
like the sons of ancient Jacob in Egypt, to make 
bricks without straw, than to enter the scenes of 
active life without economy for a companion. Study 
well, therefore, young man, the following picture : 

Ralph Montcalm is a merchant's clerk, enjoying 
a fair salary. His age is about twenty-two; his 
appearance is genteel, without foppishness ; his man- 
ners are gentlemanly and polite, without affectation. 
By strict fidelity to the duties of his station, he has 
gained a high reputation for industry, energy, and 
integrity. He is also understood to be worth a few 
hundred dollars, which he has invested with great 
caution and judgment, where it will yield him a safe 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 131 

and profitable return. The general impression con- 
cerning him, among the merchants in his vicinity, is, 
that he will one day be a man of some importance 
in society. A shrewd business man remarked, one 
day, to his employer : " Your clerk has the elements 
of a successful merchant." 

" Yes, sir ; Ealph is destined to wield considerable 
influence, * on change,' one of these days ; and being 
very economical in his habits, he can hardly fail of 
becoming a rich man." 

Such was the reply of Ralph's master. It showed 
that the clerk was acting on those principles which, 
in the estimation of experienced men, insure success. 
Yet Ralph's conduct found no sympathy from the 
fashionable disciples of dandyism, who filled situa- 
tions similar to his own, as will be seen by the fol- 
lowing conversations. 

Ralph was walking home, one evening, from his 
counting-room, when 'a fellow-clerk, who was quite 
an exquisite in his own estimation, overtook him. 
He was puffing a cigar after the most approved fash- 



132 young man's counsellor. 

ion. Stepping up to Kalph, he touched him on the 
arm and said : 

" Good-evening, Mr. Montcalm ! " 

" Good-evening, sir ! " replied Ralph to this salu- 
tation ; a few common-places passed between them, 
and then the dandy, taking out his case of Havanas, 
said : 

" Will you take a cigar with me, Mr. Montcalm ? " 

" I thank you, sir, but I never smoke ! " replied 
Ealph, with an emphasis which left no room for per- 
suasion. 

" Never smoke ! " exclaimed the astonished dandy, 
replacing the cigar-case in his pocket. " What on 
earth can induce you to deny yourself so delicious a 
luxury ? " 

" It is a luxury that costs too much, sir, for me to 
indulge in it. I really cannot afford it." 

" 0, I see," retorted the smoker, as he puffed 
forth an enormous column of smoke from his steam- 
ing mouth ; " you belong to the race of misers, and 
are set on saving your money, instead of enjoying 
life as it passes. For my part, 1 despise all such 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 133 

stinginess, and calculate to enjoy all the pleasure 
money will buy." 

Kalph took no notice of his companion's impolite 
insinuations, but in a kindly tone answered : " The 
use of tobacco, in every form, is positively injurious 
to health and intellect; as a habit, it is filthy, 
vulgar, and disgusting, to all but those who use it. 
Besides this, it makes a heavy and constant drain on 
the purse. I confess, I am too stingy to pay so high 
a price for a luxury which would shorten my life, 
fill me with disease, and render me disgusting to 
others. I would rather save my money for high 
and noble uses." 

This sensible reply was too much for the smoker 
to endure. He therefore gruffly replied : " You talk 
more like a Puritan than a gentleman ;" and hurried 
forward, leaving Ralph to his reflections, which were 
certainly more agreeable than the company of such 
an empty-brained exquisite. 

On another occasion, he was thrown into the 
society of another of these contemptible children of 
12 



134 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR 

fashion, who, in the course of conversation, inquired, 
" Where do you board, Mr. Montcalm ? " 

"At Mrs. Brown's, in G Street." 

" Indeed ! How can you think of boarding in such 
an unfashionable street ? " 

" It is my fashion to seek respectability, comfort, 
cleanliness and purity, in my home ; and all these 1 
have at Mrs. Brown's." 

" That may be ; but G Street is such an 

unfashionable street ! — and Mrs. Brown is a poor 
woman." 

" Very true, but still I find genuine comfort, abun- 
dant food, and amiable society, at her house ; and at 
a price which I can well afford to pay. What, then, 
should I gain by going up town to one of your fash- 
ionable houses ? What do you pay, where you 
board ? " 

" I pay rather high, in proportion to my salary, 
to be sure. My board costs me six dollars a week, 
But then everything is in style ; the boarders are all 
fashionable young men, and I get into some of the 
highest society in the city through their influence, 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 135 

besides gaining the reputation of being fashionable 
myself." 

" But how do you manage to meet all your expen- 
ses ? Your salary is only five hundred dollars per 
annum. You pay over three hundred dollars for 
board. Your other expenses are in proportion. I 
do not see how you can ever expect to rise above 
your clerkship, or even to marry, without saving 
something for capital ; and saving, according to your 
statements, is out of the question." 

" Saving ! Don't talk of saving, Mr. Montcalm ! 
I should be very happy to be out of debt. As to 
business or marriage, I dare not think of either, 
unless some good-natured merchant should be foolish 
enough to make me his partner." 

" You may well say foolish ; for, who but a ' good- 
natured fool' would dream of taking you, or any other 
slave of fashionable life, into partnership ? For my- 
self, I intend both to marry and to enter into busi- 
ness, at a proper time ; hence, I cannot afford to be a 
fashionable young man. It costs too much. I pre- 
fer the real comfort of a respectable home, and the 



136 young man's counsellor. 

gains cf frugality, to the ruinous reputation of being 
* a man of fashion.' I wish you good-morning, sir." 

" Good-morning, Mr. Montcalm," replied the fash- 
ionable young gentleman; and they parted, the 
former to mount the path of honor, the latter to flut- 
ter a while, like a stupid moth, around the lamp of 
fashion, to burn his wings, and then to crawl in 
obscurity to an unhonored grave. 

The reader must view Ralph Montcalm in yet 
another scene. It is laid in the counting-room of a 
merchant, with whom Ralph had been transacting 
some business in his employer's behalf. Just before 
he left, a gentleman entered on an errand of benevo- 
lence. A poor family, in very destitute circumstances, 
needed aid to keep them from starvation. So stated 
the visiter, and then he asked : 

" Gentlemen, what will you give ? " 

" Too poor to give ! " one of the clerks abruptly 
replied. He was well known for his love of driving 
a la tandem along the city avenues. 

" It costs me so much to live, I can't give any- 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 137 

thing ! " said another, whose very costly and fash- 
ionable attire placed his statement above suspicion. 

" Have n't a dollar to spare ! " bluntly responded a 
third, who was remarkable for being almost buried 
under a load of debts. 

" Put me down two dollars," said Ralph, in a half 
whisper, to the collector, as he quietly handed him 
that amount. 

" How is it that you can afford to give to every one 
that asks ? Your salary is no larger than ours, and 
yet we can hardly pay our bills. Giving, with us, is 
out of the question, " said the chief clerk to Ealph. 

Ealph smiled, and replied : " Gentlemen, the diffi- 
culty is easily solved. You live high; I live moder- 
ately. You are extravagant; I economize. You 
wear the costliest clothing, and follow every chang- 
ing fashion ; I dress respectably, and avoid extremes. 
You spend large sums per annum on cigars, wines, 
riding, theatres, operas, balls and costly suppers ; I 
deny myself these indulgences, partly because of 
their cost, and partly because of their immoral ten- 
dencies. My pleasures are intellectual ; they afford 
12* 



138 young man's counsellor. 

me higher and purer enjoyment than yours, and cost 
much less. Hence, while you are poor, t have 
money invested, and something to spare to alleviate 
the sorrows of others. Good-morning, gentlemen." 

Such is the example of economy which I desire to 
urge upon you, young man, for your imitation. Not 
a miserly meanness, which denies itself the common 
comforts of life, and shuts itself within walls of triple 
steel against the appeals of benevolence ; but such 
a manly, generous habit of expending your resources 
as will tend to improve your condition, without de- 
basing your nature, — to make you a man of prop- 
erty, without sinking you to the sordid level of a 
miser. The principles, which make such admirable 
economists as young Ealph Montcalm, are : 

1. Always let your expenditure be less than 
your income. This is the grand element of success 
in acquiring property. To carry it out, requires res- 
olution, self-denial, self-reliance. But it must be 
done, or you must be a poor man all through life. If 
for example, your income is six dollars a week, you 



ECONOMY ANIj TACT. 139 

must live on jive, or four, if you can with decency. 
But, further : 

2. Little expenses must be carefully guarded 
against. I once saw a full-grown caterpillar borne 
along the garden path by an army of tiny ants, which 
had made him their captive ; at another time, I saw 
an insect, somewhat resembling a dragon-fly, bearing 
off a caterpillar by his own unaided strength. In 
both cases, the victim perished ; and it made little 
difference whether he was in the hands of a single 
dragon-fly, or of an army of ants. Thus, many little 
expense ^ are as fatal to a young man's prosperity as 
a great speculation which ruins at a single blow. 
The former will as surely bear him to the grave of 
poverty as the latter. Hence, the pence so foolishly 
spent on cigars, confectionary, fruit, ice-creams, soda, 
water, &c, must be retained in the purse of the 
young man who intends to take rank in respectable 
society. If they escape, they will, in spite of all his 
resistance, be like the ant-army, and will bear him 
to a pauper's grave. Deny thyself, in little as in 
great things, is a necessary condition of prosperity. 



140 young man's counsellor. 

3. Avoid the habit of getting into debt. At- 
tention to the above maxims will make the observ- 
ance of this one easy. Still, there is, to some minds, 
such a fascination in the act of buying on credit, that 
they will do it even when they have cash in their 
pockets. You must avoid this practice ! Pay for 
what you purchase, at least until you begin business; 
and then buy very cautiously, and you will rarely 
buy what you do not need. To be in debt, is to be 
enslaved ; it is a prolific source of care ; an occasion 
of temptation to extravagance ; it often leads to false- 
hood, dishonesty, gambling, destruction. Debt de- 
stroys more than the cholera. Therefore, young 
man, avoid debt ! 

4. Avoid littleness. You saw Ralph Montcalm 
ready to give to the poor. You must do the same, 
if not from pure benevolence of feeling, at least out 
of regard for yourself. Strict economy may lapse 
into sordid covetousness, and make the frugal man 
contemptibly mean. I have been told of a wealthy 
farmer, a professor of religion, who invited a student, 
just licensed to preach, to stay at his house during a 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 141 

series of religious meetings he was conducting in the 
neighborhood. When the young preacher was about 
to leave, the farmer accompanied him to the gate, 
expressing great pleasure for his visit and labors. 

Just before they parted, he said, " Mr. , I should 

like to make you a small present." 

" I thank you, sir ! " said the young student, bow- 
ing acquiescence to the welcome suggestion. 

The farmer then took a twenty-five cent coin 
from his pocket, and said : " This is the smallest 
change I have. If you will give me twelve and a 
half cents in change, you may keep the rest ! " 

" I have no silver about me," replied the student, 
as he leaped on to his horse, scarcely able to conceal 
the combined emotions of indignation and merriment 
which struggled within him for expression. 

If this fact had not been related in my hearing by 
the aforesaid student, I could hardly have believed 
that any man could have acted with such contempti- 
ble littleness as that farmer ; yet such is the mean- 
ness of spirit which will grow upon the man whose 
economy is not joined to some form of benevolent 



142 young man's counsellor. 

action. Therefore, I repeat the injunction, — avoid 
attleness, by carefully cultivating a generous philan- 
thropic spirit, amidst all your plans of frugality. 

There is another element of success which is 
worthy of a few thoughts. I mean tact, or versa- 
tility — a power of self-adaptation to every new 
opening of Providence. A man -of tact immediately 
fills a new position with naturalness, and, however 
he himself may feel its embarrassments, he forces 
the impression upon others, that he is just the man 
for the place. On the other hand, without tact, a 
man is impracticable. Change his sphere, and he 
acts stiffly, awkwardly; he is like a stifF-jointed 
country recruit at his first drill ; so uncouth are his 
movements, that lookers-on exclaim, " He will never 
do ! " Hence, his friends lose their interest in his 
advancement. They fear to advance him, lest his 
clownishness should mortify their pride. He is left 
to pine in the obscurity of a lowly position. 

But tact is the gift of nature ! Yes ! to some 
extent 't is so. Versatility is easier to some than to 
others. That is, it requires less effort in some than 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 143 

in others, to adapt themselves to new relations to 
society. But even the versatility of the proudest 
sous of genius is the offspring of self-culture. The 
man who shines in an exalted position, who appears 
in it at such perfect ease that one might infer he 
was born to fill it, has gained the confidence which 
inspires him with ease by previous self-cultivation. 
A man who is true to himself is always in advance 
of his actual position ; hence, when called to higher 
posts, he moves into them and fills them with pro- 
priety and dignity. This is tact. And the mental 
training which creates tact is within the reach of 
every young man. 

But what has religion to do with these elements 
of success in life ? It might as properly be asked, 
what has an anchor to do with the safety of a ship ? 
For, as the latter is held at a secure distance from 
the shore, notwithstanding the driving gale, so is a 
young man bound to the practice of economy and 
the cultivation of tact by the authoritative claims of 
religion. Pride, sensuality, and custom, are like 
strong winds beating life's young voyager upon the 



144 YOUNG MAN S COUNSELLOR. 

• 

rocks of prodigality, or the quicksands of extrava- 
gance. Religion anchors him fast, by her strong 
principles. She exacts diligence, industry, honesty, 
by her precepts ; she pictures the desolation of the 
spendthrift by her inimitable drawing of the Prodi- 
gal Son; she checks waste by teaching the doc- 
trine of accountability to God for all we possess ; 
thundering in every ear her call of " Give an 
account of thy stewardship ! " Concerning the duty 
of fitting one's self to fill his station with honor, the 
precept of Paul to Timothy is apposite : " Study 
to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that 
needeth not to he ashamed;" and again, "Give 
thyself wholly" to the duties of thy vocation, "that 
thy profiting may appear to all" This exhorta- 
tion, self-applied by every young man, would con- 
stitute him, in a greater or less degree, a man of 
tact. 

Thus does religion in the soul give vigor and 
fruitfulness to every element of prosperity in human 
character. Viewed in all its aspects, it justifies the 
beautiful figure of the good man in the song of the 



ECONOMY AND TACT. 



145 



royal psalmist : "He shall be like a tree planted by 
the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in 
his season : his leaf also shall not wither ; and 

whatsoever he doeth shall prosper" 
13 



NtW YORK, N. Y, 



LIBRARY 



CHAPTER VIII. 

HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 

HE Abbe Mennais has made 
this beautiful remark : that " from 
the sun, whence pour inexhausti- 
ble floods of light and life, down 
\ to the spring that drop by drop ex- 
udes from the rock, all is ordered for 
a given end, to which all contribute in 
an infinite variety of ways, that are the 
more admired the more they are con- 
templated. There is not an action, a move- 
ment, in the universe, that does not succes- 
sively contribute to the growth of a tuft of 




moss." 



In this harmony of nature — a harmony so com- 
plete and so necessary, that the failure of any one 
operation in the universe would neutralize the action 
of all the rest, and denude the earth of its beauty 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 147 

and adornment, — we may learn a profitable lesson in 
relation to the influence of character upon success. 
In the preceding chapters, I have presented various 
elements of character in their relation to a prosper- 
ous life. They have been treated separately ; and, 
lest the reader should fall into the blunder of sup- 
posing that any one of them can singly lead to suc- 
cess, I wish to say with emphasis, that as in the 
operations of nature, so in the conflicts of life, the 
effect of great success is produced by the harmoni- 
ous combination of each and every valuable quality. 
The absence of one qualification may hinder the 
productiveness of all the rest; the excess of another 
may undo all that the proper action of the rest had 
accomplished. For example, let a young man be 
industrious, versatile, energetic, intelligent, and yet 
lack integrity, what becomes of his prosperity ? He 
may acquire wealth by dishonest means, but he must 
live without the confidence of good men, and die " as 
the fool dieth." Or, suppose him to have integrity, 
intelligence, industry, economy, and to be defective 
in energy ; he will sink, in spite of all his high qual- 



148 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

ifications, beneath the obstacles which lie in every 
man's path to eminence. Or, again, let him have 
an excess of energy, he will be rash and fall into 
irretrievable ruin ; let him be excessively frugal, and 
he will become a miser ; let him be over versatile 
he will be the "rolling stone which gathers no 
moss ;" an excessive attachment to letters will con- 
vert him into a theorist or a book-worm. Thus, it 
is apparent, that, to insure success, a young man 
must diligently attain and prudently cultivate all 
those particular excellences, which, when possessed 
in combination, make a failure next to impossible. 

What reader of Holy Scripture has not felt a most 
tender regard for that interesting youth, who, in all 
the eagerness of self-confidence, stood complacently 
before the great Teacher and asked : 

" Good Master, ivhat shall I do to inherit eternal 
life ? » 

With what elation of soul did that young self- 
deceiver listen to the reply of the great heart-search- 
er : "If thou wilt enter into life, keep the command- 
ments 1 " 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 149 

Exulting in his fancied triumph, the young man 
replied : "All these have I kept from my youth up ! 
What lack I yet ?" 

By one stroke — a stroke severely kind — the Ke- 
deemer prostrated all his hopes : " Yet lackest 
thou one thing ! " And then he gave him a prac- 
tical test, which at once unfolded his true state to 
his startled mind, and convinced him that, however 
externally spotless he might be, his heart was su- 
premely selfish. He lacked that self-devotion to the 
glory of God which is the essence of all true relig 
ion — a lack that neutralized all his excellences, and 
was fatal to his confidence in the Divine favor. 

Young man, you may, in like manner, fail of true 
greatness through one fatal deficiency, and be 
ranked with the men so fitly described by the great 
English bard : — 

" Men 

Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, 
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace, 
As infinite as man may undergo) 
Shall in the general censure take corruption 
FTom that particular fault." 

13* 



150 young man's counsellor. 

Lord Byron's history famishes a most painful 
example of the ruin resulting from the want of sym- 
metry in character. To use the splendid diction of 
Macaulay, "He was born to all men covet and 
admire. But in every one of those eminent advan- 
tages which he possessed over others there was 
mingled something of misery and debasement. He 
was sprung from a house, ancient indeed, and noble, 
but degraded and impoverished by a series of crimes 
and follies. The young peer had great intellectual 
powers ; yet there was an unsound part in his mind. 
He had naturally a generous and tender heart ; but 
his temper was wayward and irritable. He had a 
head which statuaries loved to copy, and a foot the 
deformity of which the beggars in the street mim- 
icked. He was distinguished by the strength and 
by the weakness of his intellect; affectionate, yet 
perverse, — a poor lord, and a handsome cripple." 

What was the result of these opposite combina- 
tions ? — of this lack of moral symmetry ? The first 
noticeable efforts of his muse, being directed by his 
perverse temper, brought him a harvest of contempt 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 151 

and hatred. Stung to the quick, he exerted his 
noble genius, and produced a composition which 
raised him to the pinnacle of fame ; and " all this 
world, and all the glory of it, were at once offered to 
him." Like a spoiled child, he now yielded to the 
violence of his passions, and the bitterness of his 
temper. For this, society cast him out of its pale. 
He fled to Italy ; and there, by turns, cultivated his 
genius and gratified his passions. He lost his health, 
his hair became gray, his food ceased to nourish him. 
The Grecian struggle for independence roused for a 
time his nobler sentiments. He dragged his diseased 
body to Missolonghi ; and there, at the age of thirty- 
six, this " most celebrated Englishman of the nine- 
teenth century closed his brilliant and miserable 
career." 

Who will deny that Lord Byron's life was a 
splendid failure ? Why was it so ? Not for lack of 
high qualities of mind, but through excess of low 
and degraded passions. Had this unhappy man 
subdued his evil qualities, and sedulously cultivated 
what was high and noble in his nature, his name 



152 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

would have passed down to posterity as a model of 
all excellency and beauty. Neglecting this, he 
stands among the images of the past like some grim 
ghost on the great highway of life, scaring the 
advancing traveller from the ways of self-neglect and 
self-indulgence 

To resist temptations, to be prepared for all emer- 
gencies, to rise to real eminence, to answer life's 
great end, you must avoid the example before you. 
You must cultivate all the conditions of success, and 
especially those in which you find yourself most 
deficient. See to it that there are neither excesses 
nor defects in your character, but a harmonious 
blending, a delightful symmetry, formed of fitting 
proportions of every high quality. 

How shall this symmetry of character be attained ? 
By what means shall the young man repress his low 
and debasing qualities, develop what is noble and 
beautiful in human nature, and maintain a due pro- 
portion of each element of social superiority ? This 
is a great question. I will attempt its solution. 

Figure to your mind a perfect circle ; — observe 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 153 

that its perfection depends upon the equidistance of 
every part of its line from the point in its centre. 
The least deviation would destroy its perfectibility. 
Harmony of character is, in like manner, produced 
by the action of some great central principle upon 
the conduct — a principle whose comprehensive grasp 
reaches to every act and feeling, regulating, stimu- 
lating, repressing, or guiding, as circumstances may 
require. Such a principle, standing like the central 
point in the circle, and wielding absolute authority 
over the soul, is the only sure means of producing 
that harmony of character so essential to success. 

The stern heroism of Eegulus, the Roman gen- 
eral, may serve to illustrate the influence of such a 
principle. This brave soldier, after being defeated, 
and kept in captivity for several years, was sent by 
the Carthaginians with an embassy to Eome, to 
solicit a cessation of arms and an exchange of pris- 
oners. To secure his influence in their favor, they 
made him swear that, if the desired end was not 
attained, he would return to Carthage. The Roman 
took the oath, and departed. 



154 



Touched with the misfortunes of their general, 
the Eoman senate was disposed to treat for peace, 
and retain the heroic Eegulus. But he, knowing 
the weakness and exhaustion of Carthage, boldly 
advised the continuance of the war. Upon this, the 
senate rejected the overtures of the ambassadors; 
and, knowing the fate which awaited their general, 
entreated him to remain at Home. His wife, his 
children, his friends, with tears and embraces, be- 
sought him not to rush on certain destruction. He 
was inexorable. He had sworn to return, and no 
considerations could change his iron purpose to keep 
his oath. He did return, and his ungenerous foes, 
to their eternal infamy, put him to death in the most 
cruel and malignant manner. 

What was it that made Regulus proof against the 
tears of his friends, the love of his wife, the affection 
of his children, the fear of death ? — for he resisted 
all these to fulfil his oath. Was he an unfeeling 
stoic ? Nay ! — but he was animated by that noble 
principle of Roman honor, which taught that death 
was preferable to a false, a mean, or a dastardlv 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 155 

action ! And it was this controlling sentiment, 
expelling or subduing all others, which led nim to 
prefer his heroic death to the violation of a Koman's 
word. It also preserved him from sacrificing the 
interests of his country to his own safety. It made 
him at once a patriot and a hero. 

Thus, you may perceive that the influence of a 
noble principle is like the action of the centripetal 
force on the solar system. As that attractive energy 
steadily maintains the unity and order of the uni- 
verse, so a lofty, comprehensive, authoritative prin- 
ciple subdues the thoughts, emotions and actions, to 
itself, and maintains a delightful harmony in the life 
of a young man, which commands the admiration 
and confidence of mankind. It is the wave-line of 
beauty, which, running through all his conduct, im- 
parts gracefulness to each act, and dignity and pro- 
priety to his entire character. 

It is, therefore, a question of great moment to 
every young man, where to obtain a principle 
sufficiently comprehensive and powerful to regulate 
all the parts of his conduct, so as to form one harmo- 



156 young man's counsellor. 

nious whole. Some are satisfied with the sentiment 
of honor, such as ruled the Eoman patriot. But that 
is obviously not sufficiently comprehensive. Your 
modern men of honor are gamblers, duellists, tyrants, 
Sabbath-breakers, drunkards, speculators, and the 
like ; such things not being prohibited in the code of 
honor as established by public opinion, and the con- 
duct of " great men" falsely so called. Neither is 
the law of self-respect sufficient. It doubtless does 
much to regulate life in the sphere of home, but is not 
proof against the temptations which assail men when 
abroad. Look, for instance, to the alarming fact, 
that the theatres, brothels, and other places of sinful 
resort in large cities, are chiefly supported by persons 
from the country. And who are these men from 
interior towns ? What are they, when at home, but 
rigid moralists in appearance ? Diligent, self-deny- 
ing men in their general habits, but immoral on 
occasions and opportunities. The reason is obvious. 
They are restrained among their friends only by that 
*ow standard of self-respect, which fears degradation 
m the eyes of others, but shrinks not from being 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 157 

mean in its own eyes, and guilty in the sight of God. 
It is not at all surprising, that such a flimsy defence 
against temptation often yields to a fierce and perse- 
vering assault. 

A fearful illustration of the absolute powerlessnes* 
of these restraints, when the soul is powerful!] 
tempted, is furnished in the case of the late Profes 
sor Webster. If ever mortal man was placed in » 
situation to maintain a high character, through mo 
tives of self-respect and honor, he was that man 
Educated, highly respectable in his connections 
moving in the most refined and elevated circles in 
social life, widely known through his connection 
with the mother of American universities, the hus- 
band of an accomplished wife, the father of amiable, 
lovely daughters, and the possessor of what ought to 
have been an ample income, — how could he fail of 
feeling in their full force the claims of honor and 
the demands of self-respect ? For him to do a noto- 
riously mean or unlawful act, was to fall from the 
loftiest pinnacle of social honor to the lowest valley 
of shame. He knew this. Hence, honor and self- 
14 



158 young man's counsellor. 

respect combined to keep him within the bounds of 
right and truth. But alas ! how ineffectual were 
these restraints ! Failing to reach the inner temple 
of the soul, they left him a prey to pride, extrava- 
gance and passion. Pushed by pride into extrava- 
gance, and by extravagance into embarrassments 
and by these again into acts of meanness, which, if 
proclaimed, would wound his haughty pride, his 
passions urged him to strike the desperate blow of 
murder, to free himself from the threatening danger. 
Passion won the day. He slew Patroclus, but fell 
into the hands of Achilles. By sti iking a man from 
existence whom he deemed his tormentor, he became 
a felon, and was dragged by the stern hand of the 
law from his high position to the scaffold! Alas! 
that his self-respect and his sense of honor should 
have failed to keep him from moral deformity and 
from crime ! That it did not is an obvious fact; and 
that it cannot be relied upon in the hour when the 
tempter does his utmost, is equally demonstrable, 
from the nature of the case, and from the history of 
mankind. 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. "59 

Far higher, therefore, must that young man look 
than mere honor or self-respect, who would attain to 
symmetry and stability of character. Keltgion alone 
can furnish him with a principle at once potent and 
comprehensive enough for his stern necessities. Ke- 
ligion establishes itself on the throne of the soul. 
It exerts its restraining and transforming power over 
the will, the intellect, and the emotions. It per- 
suades, entreats, and it also commands with Divine 
authority. It lays the soul under the weightiest 
obligation to walk by its great all-embracing prin- 
ciple. " Whether, therefore, ye eat or drink, or 

WHATSOEVER YE DO, DO ALL TO THE GLORY OF GoD." 

Here is a far-reaching principle, laying every act, 
thought, and motive, under contribution ; demanding 
the utter negation of self, and the subordination of 
the entire man, physical and spiritual, to the law of 
God. As the mysterious magnet points unerringly 
to the northern pole of the earth, so does this law 
direct the soul of the young man to " the glory of 
God" He must repudiate whatever act or thought 
dishonors his Creator; he must resolutely practise 



160 young man's counsellor. 

everything, however it may crucify the passions, 
which tends to glorify the God of heaven. Here, 
then, is a principle suited to his necessities, whose 
operation, if submitted to, must, from the nature of 
the case, produce a lovely symmetry of character. 
It will bind and restrain unlawful passion, create 
integrity,- — stimulate to energy, to self-culture, to 
industry, to economy, to tact, to everything that 
develops noble qualities and latent powers. Noi 
are its requisitions of impossible performance. The 
same authority which announces the law also vouch- 
safes power to obey. " Ye shall receive power from 
on high ! " " My grace is sufficient for the-e," are 
the encouraging promises of the Law-giver to every 
willing recipient of his command. And so effectu- 
ally is that aid vouchsafed to every submissive and 
believing mind, that, filled with conscious power, it 
car. view all the temptations of the inner and outer 
life, and exclaim, "I can do all things through Christ 
who strengtheneth me ! " 

To religion, therefore, young man, do I earnestly 
commend you, as the surest means of attaining har- 



HARMONY OF CHARACTER. 161 

mony of character. Only let the " glory of God run 
like a silver thread through all your actions," and 
you shall stand forth before the world a symmetrical 
man, and hence, a man of power ; for 

*°T is moral grandeur makes the mighty man." 

14* 



NEW YORK, N. Y ( 
LIBRARY 



CHAPTER IX. 

VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 

ANTE, in his Divina Comedia^ 
describes a broad-shouldered moun- 
tain rising before him, directly after 
he had gone astray " from the path 
direct." Resolute of purpose, he pre- 
ppared to journey "over that lonely 
steep ;" but he says : 

" Scarce the ascent 
Begun, when lo ! a panther, nimble, light, 
And covered with a speckled skin, appeared ; 
Nor when it saw me -vanished ; rather strove 
To check my onward going. " 

Having overcome this beast, he adds : 

" A lion came 'gainst me as it appeared, 
With his head held aloft and hunger mad, 
That e'en the air, was fear-struck. A she-wolf 
Was at his heels, who in her leanness seemed 
Full of all wants." 




VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 163 

Trembling before this new enemy, he was about to 
flee when a form appeared, who, in reply to his tears 
and entreaties, said : 

" Thou must needs 
Another way pursue, if thou wouldst 'scape 
From out that savage wilderness. This beast 
To whom thou criest, her way will suffer none 
To pass ; and no less hindrance makes than death.' > 

The panther of Dante, with its soft, gay skin, is 
an emblem of voluptuousness in all its forms. The 
lion is the figure of ambition ; the wolf, of avarice. 
These three beasts beset and assail every traveller in 
the way of life. First comes the panther, when the 
passions wake to life in the young man's breast, striv- 
ing to destroy him with the pleasures of lust and 
appetite. If by these means he is conquered, — if he 
permits himself to be charmed by illicit, sensual grat- 
ifications, — he sinks to the level of a brute ; and his 
body, his name, and deeds, speedJly rot together. If 
he resist the panther, the insatiable cravings of 
ambition wake up, fierce as a lion, in his soul, and 
he is tempted to enter the lists where men do tilt 



164 young man's counsellor. 

and tourney for the crowns of human fame. For 
these, if ambition triumph, he forfeits the crown of 

everlasting life ! Should he resist, and seek distinc- 

• 

tion only as a means of honoring his Creator, the 
wolf of avarice next seeks his overthrow. Thus 
danger succeeds danger, until he perishes, or, by 
resistance and conquest, attains a noble sublimity of 
character ; and, radiant in the rays of a virtue gained 
through the power of a religious faith, passes in tri- 
umph through the "everlasting doors," into the 
eternal paradise. 

You, young man, are at the age in which the pas- 
sions and appetites begin to clamor for indulgence. 
They glow with all the fervor of fierce desire, and 
prompt you to indulge yourself through means for- 
bidden both by the constitution of your nature and 
the laws of God. Eemember that your Creator has 
implanted these propensities within you for high and 
holy purposes. They are not necessarily debasing 
and imbruting in their tendencies. They only be- 
come so when, impatient of restraint, a youth lays 
the reins of control upon their neck, and bids them 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 165 

dash with wild impetuosity across the Rubicon which 
flows along the borders between innocence and guilt, 
— right and wrong. But when, by the aids of rea- 
son and conscience, the triumphant soul becomes 
conscious of holding a high moral reign over the 
inferior body, it rapidly rises in dignity and in 
power. The very strength of these propensions, by 
calling the authority of the soul into existence, thus 
serves to promote its elevation and develop its great- 
ness. Determine, therefore, young reader, to be 
above the servitude of the senses ! Let your intelli- 
gent soul, aided by Divine grace, point to the limit 
of Divine law, and say to the foamings of passion as 
God to the swelling sea : "Hitherto shalt thou come, 
but no further : and here shall thy proud waves be 
stayed ! " and the grace of Christ shall shut up your 
desires, as his Omnipotence has "shut up the sea with 
doors" 

One of your chief dangers, in this controversy with 
passion, is found in the fact that while religion, con- 
science, duty, cry " Restrain ! Deny ! " the world, 
through its pleasures and its adherents, cries " En- 



166 young man's counsellor. 

joy ! " Hence, temptations and practical sanctions 
to vicious indulgence abound. Corresponding to the 
burning desires within, are abundant means to grat- 
ify them without. These means are so contrived as 
to hide the miseries of vice beneath dazzling and 
charming appearances. That wretched poet, Byron, 
who wrote from the black depth of his own tormented 
spirit, thus describes it in his " Childe Harold : " 

<c Ah vice, how soft are thy voluptuous ways ! 
While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape 
The fascination of thy magic gaze ! 
A cherub hydra round us dost thou gape, 
And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape." 

Behold by yonder way-side a small and delicate 
tree, covered with a rich profusion of crimson bloom. 
As you stand at a distance, it strongly resembles a 
peach-tree covered with its beautiful blossoms. A 
nearer approach will undeceive you. Heaps of dead 
insects at your feet, and swarms of living ones float- 
ing round its bloom, and hastening to sip its fatal 
nectar, proclaim the poisonous nature of the gaudy 
6hrub. Yon passing peasant boy will tell you it is 



VICE AND TTS ALLUREMENTS. 167 

the "Judas-tree," or, m Indian phraseology, the 
" Ked-bud." 

Such is vice to every young novitiate: — charming 
to the eyes, exquisitely exciting to the senses, it 
allures the unwary youth to taste its forbidden pleas- 
ures. He sees the brilliant gayety of the saloon and 
the theatre. He hears the soft, voluptuous music of 
the orchestra and the ball-room. He gazes on the 
radiant faces of the dancers, and on the excited 
crowds who throng the portals of the drama. He 
observes the seductive glances of the " strange wo- 
man," until his blood boils, his head reels, his desires 
overcome him. " There is pleasure in these things," 
he cries. Then, heedless of the admonishing shade 
of his mother, which gazes sadly on his tempted 
spirit, scorning the monition of his moral guardian, 
— his conscience, which cries "Forbear," — reckless 
of all but present joy, he flies to taste the forbidden 
nectar. One taste only inflames his soul the more. 
Like the insects on the Judas-tree, he heeds not the 
swarms of perished ones, but tastes and tastes again, 
until he is lost beyond redemption. 



168 young man's counsellor. 

Stand with me, in imagination, young man, at the 
hour of midnight, and gaze upon the fire in yonder 
city. A large cluster of houses is wrapped in flames, 
which, roaring aloud, as if rejoicing in destruction, 
send their broad red sheets, and their ever-darting 
fiery tongues, far up into the gloomy sky. At 
length, they spread to an aviary containing nearly a 
thousand beautiful canary-birds. Unable to remove 
them, unwilling to stand and see them burned, their 
owner opens the doors of their prison-house, and the 
bewildered birds fly into the air. Mounted above 
the flames, they hover for a while in seeming safety. 
Now they whirl in circles above the fearful blaze, as 
if held by some irresistible fascination ; now, sweep- 
ing downwards and upwards, as if irresolute of pur- 
pose, they linger a little longer, until first one and 
then another drops into the burning pile, and every 
little songster is speedily destroyed. 

Very similar are the fascinations of vicious pleas- 
ures. Once within the embrace of evil, a young 
man has little hope of escape. If he will not study 
its terrible consequences, before he enters upon its 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 169 

practice, he will be either blind to their existence, or 
so fascinated by the spell exerted over his passions, 
that his escape will be next to an impossibility. So 
deadly is the infatuation of vice to a fallen young 
man, that the first indulgence by which he enters 
the path of the sensualist might almost claim the 
lines which Dante has inscribed over the gate of 
hell: 

" Through me vou pass into the city of woe, 
Through me you pass into eternal pain, 
Through me, among the people lost for aye. 
***** 

All hope abandon ye who enter here." 

This is speaking very strongly, I am aware ; 
because the sensualist, whether drunkard, debauchee 
or glutton, may be pardoned and regenerated through 
the atonement of Jesus Christ. He may, such is the 
all-abounding grace of Christ, escape the bondage of 
vice, and win the freedom of a man of virtue. But 
the enervating influence and the ever-increasing 
potency of vicious indulgences are so great and so 
mighty, that there is little room to hope for the 
15 



170 young man's counsellor. 

recovery of a young man, who, having been trained 
to pure principles, descends to the corruptions of a 
bad life. Vice is like the terrible cobra di capello, 
which winds itself round its victim, and from its 
deadly fangs pours poison into his blood. So vice 
enslaves and destroys. Whoever is charmed to its 
embraces, finds himself enfolded in bonds of might, 
and poisoned with a morbid venom which irritates 
and stimulates his passions beyond the endurance of 
his vital powers ; until, with a diseased body, a hard- 
ened heart, and a remorseful spirit, he sinks to an 
untimely death, and is driven to stand, shivering 
with fear, before his God ! 

The history of mankind is a great commentary 
upon this truth. It is crowded with cases of those 
who, through the allurements of the passions, have 
madly rushed on ruin. They have seen fortune, 
fame, station, reputation, and even empire, sliding 
away from beneath their feet. Voices of friendship 
have stunned their ears with warnings. Euin, with 
grim and horrid visage, has stared them in the face. 



VICE* AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 171 

But, spell-bound, enchanted, charmed, they have 
heedlessly pursued their pleasures, 

" Like birds the charming serpent draws, 
To drop head foremost in his jaws," 

until the darkness of the second death swallowed 
them up forever ! 

Do you ask for particular examples ? Let me lead 
you to that of Mark Anton v, one of the triumviri 
who governed Rome after the assassination of Caesar. 
He was the possessor of high military talents, the 
idol of his soldiers, the husband of the nobly born 
Octavia, and one of the chiefs of the greatest empire 
in the world. This man, as you know, was met, in 
the fulness of his strength and in the pride of his 
victories, by the luxurious Cleopatra, Queen of 
Egypt. Lured by her voluptuous wiles, he yielded 
himself up to a life of sensuous prodigality. The 
feast, the dance, the song, absorbed his time; the 
artifice and beauty of Cleopatra captivated his soul. 
Regardless of honor and duty, he divorced his wife * 
reckless of consequences, he waster 1 his resources, 



172 young man's counsellor. 

neglected his fortunes, and saw without concern the 
preparations of his rival, Octavius, to secure his rain. 
He lay, a self-abandoned victim, in the arms of his 
artful destroyer. No sense of honor, no idea of self- 
respect, no fear of overhanging consequences, could 
rouse him from Lis fatal enhancement. But the 
cloud soon burst over his foolish head, and in the 
midst of the storm, he lost empire, fame, and life, 
together ! 

Poor Eobert Burns, the bard of Scotland, is 
another illustration of the 'power of vice to retain its 
victim. His talents raised him from the obscurity 
of his early life to distinction. His generous inde- 
pendence of mind secured him the affections of those 
with whom he became intimate. With ordinary 
prudence, he might have spent his days in ease and 
independence. But his noble spirit was in the bonds 
of dissipation. Many, but vain, were his struggles 
after freedom. Innumerable were his resolves to 
conquer the habit which charmed and disgusted 
him by turns. The consciousness he felt concerning 
die utter hopelessness of his case, is touchingly ex- 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 173 

pressed in the following lines, composed by himself 
as a prayer, in a fit of dangerous illness : 

" Fain would I say, ' Forgive my foul offence,' 
Fain promise never more to disobey ; 
But should my Author health again dispense, 
Again I might desert fair virtue's way, 
Again in folly's path might go astray, 
Again exalt the brute and sink the man ; 
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray, 
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan — 
Who sin so oft have mourned, yet to temptation ran!" 

This melancholy subjection of soul to sense con- 
tinued to the close of his life. His last illness was 
brought on by the dissipation of a winter's night. 
He died in poverty, the victim of a folly which weak- 
ened his powers, dimmed the lustre of his fame, and 
shortened his days on earth. Pitiful sight, to see a 
soul possessed of such noble powers enslaved by a 
degrading vice ! How forcibly does the ruin of such 
minds prove the almost omnipotence of vice ! 

The case of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the 

most brilliant orator of his times, is equally in point. 

What native greatness must have held its seat in 
15* 



174 young man's counsellor. 

his soul ! What magnificence of intellect was that 
which gave birth to the eloquence, wit and argu- 
ment, which drew from the glorious Burke the con- 
fession that the effect of his speech, in the case of 
Warren Hastings, was the " most astonishing of any 
of which there was any record or tradition ; " and 
from the great Mr. Pitt, the acknowledgment that it 
surpassed all the eloquence of ancient or modern 
times." Yet, even his great soul was the slave of 
imperious passions! Indolence, dissipation, prodi- 
gality, held him bound in chains of steel, and bore 
him to distress, anguish, poverty, and ruin. Vain 
were all his agonizing struggles after his lost moral 
freedom. This man, whose eloquence led princes to 
court his friendship, and compelled the admiration 
of his rivals in politics and oratory, was arrested by 
a sheriff's officer for debt, on his death-bed ! What 
invincible strength! What irresistible attractions! 
What power to debase and to weaken must be 
lodged in vices which could pull down ruin on the 
head of such a princely intellect as that of Richard 
Brinsley Sheridan ! 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 175 

I have given these illustrations from the lives of 
what are called great men, that the young man may 
see the power of vice over minds of the largest 
capacity. If such men found it impossible to escape, 
how can others encourage the hope of a better fate ? 
Nay, dear youth, the only safe course for you is to 

RESOLUTELY LET ALL VICIOUS INDULGENCE ALONE ! 

11 Avoid it, pass , not by it, turn from it, and pass 
away : Then shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and 
thy foot shall not stumble" 

The plea of every young mind that enters upon its 
novitiate in the school of vice is for only a little self- 
indulgence. The mind, while undefiled by positive 
contact with the sins of the senses, revolts from the 
idea of a wholly vicious life. It views such a life as 
the dogs of Egypt are said to fear the crocodiles 
which abound in the Nile. So intense is this fear, 
that, when impelled by fierce thirst to drink its 
waters, they do it as they run, not daring to pause 
long enough at once to satisfy their burning desires. 
Thus does the young man propose to taste illicit 
joys. He would onlv taste and flee, lest he should 



176 young man's counsellor. 

be devoured ! Alas ! he knows not the terrible power 
he awakens, when he quaffs his first draught from 
the prohibited stream of pleasure ! By that one act, 
he casts away the talisman of his safety, self-denial ; 
he removes the curb from the mouth of lust, he 
pours foul water upon the virgin snow, and thus 
places an ineffaceable stain upon his purity ; he con- 
tracts guilt, sows the seed of remorse, and sells his 
moral freedom for nought. A little indulgence? 
Never, young man ! Allow it, and you are lost ; 
blindness begins where vice first enchants. Beware, 
oh beware of this pestilential apology ! Be like the 
knights of Tasso, who, on Armida's enchanted isle 
seeing all the enticements of sense voluptuously pre- 
pared and inviting to indulgence, exclaimed : 

11 Let us avoid the dream 
Of warm desire, and in resolve be strong ; 
Now shut our ears to the fair Siren's song, 
And to each smile of feminine deceit 
Close the fond eye." 

Thus resolved, the wiles and witcheries of Armi- 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 177 

da's luxurious groves and bewitching damsels were 
powerless ; for 

" To these wiles the knights in triple steel 
Of stern resolve had shut their souls ; and hence 
The tunes they sing, the beauties they reveal, 
Their angel looks and heavenly eloquence, 
But circle round and round, nor reach the seat of sense." 

Thus must every young man meet the first ad- 
vances of vicious solicitation, if he would not be 
drawn into hopeless servitude. The saying of an 
odd writer, concerning courts of law, is applicable to 
the court of pleasure. He says, " A man who goes 
to law finds the court full of invisible hooks. He 
turns round to disembarrass himself from one, and 
straightway he is caught by another. First his 
cloak, then the skirts of his coat, then his sleeves, 
till ere long everything is torn from him, and, like a 
gypsy, he escapes because he is so stripped there is 
no further hold upon him." 

The youth who crosses the threshold of the court 
of vice will find these "invisible hooks," sharper and 
in greater abundance than in courts of law. Once 



178 young man's counsellor. 

caught, he will be "hooked" in every direction. 
One tempter will succeed another, each handing him 
over to the next. Thus snared and dragged from 
vice to vice, until denuded of every virtue, he will at 
last, in all probability, perish in unutterable woe. 
Therefore, young reader, beware of the first lesson 
in vice ! Your esdfcpe from destruction depends on 
your being strong in resolve to resist the first ad- 
vances of illicit pleasure. "The bird which is 
ensnared by one tag is as surely the prey of the 
fowler as if it were seized by both wings." Or let 
one wheel of a watch be magnetized, it will attract 
all the other wheels to itself, and thus as effectually 
destroy its correctness as if every wheel was dis- 
placed. Beware, then, of one disordered passion — 
one ensnaring abomination ! 

I find a very appropriate illustration of the risk 
incurred by one indulgence in forbidden things in 
the life of the great Arabian impostor, Mohammed. 
In the course of his astonishing career of victory, he 
captured the citadel of Khaibar. A Jewish captive, 
named Zainab, determined to destroy the conqueror. 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 179 

To accomplish her purpose, she prepared a subtle 
poison, an art in which she was exquisitely skilful, 
and introduced it into a shoulder of lamb, which was 
designed for the prophet's table. Her plot was un- 
discovered, and in due time the poisoned meat was 
set before the intended victim. Unsuspicious of 
danger, Mohammed began his repast. But at the 
first mouthful, perceiving something unusual in its 
taste, he spat it forth ; but instantly felt acute inter- 
nal pain. In that brief moment, he had imbibed 
enough of the poison to injure his constitution 
through the remainder of his life. Many were the 
severe paroxysms of pain he suffered from its po- 
tency. And in his dying moments, while undergoing 
intense physical agony, he exclaimed : 

" The veins of my heart are throbbing with the 
poison of Khaibar ! " 

Young man ! believe me, your first taste of vicious 
pleasure, though it may not be succeeded by a second 
offence, may be as fatal to you as the poison of 
Zainab was to the oriental prophet ! Horace Mann, 
in his noble " Thoughts for a Young Man," has well 



180 YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

said : " The capital of health may all be forfeited by 
one physical misdemeanor." He might have added, 
that the capital of character, of moral purity, of self- 
respect, are all jeopardized by one transgression. 
Pause, therefore, at the threshold of the temple of 
infamy ; and though a jovial companion, a witching 
seducer, may say, " only this once" do you reflect 
and reply ; " Nay ! on a death-bed the veins of my 
hearf may throb with the poison of this one sin . " 

"Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? " 
was the question of the psalmist, when viewing, as 
we have been doing, the allurements and power of 
vice. The question is timely and proper at this 
stage of our work. The answer of the experienced 
minstrel is equally in point: viz., "By taking heed 
thereto according to thy word ;" that is, by securing 
the aid of religious power. Without this help from 
above, such is the tyranny of human passion and 
appetite, resistance is almost vain. Wrestling with 
their strength, the unaided youth will be compelled 
to exclaim, with a greater than himself, " O wretched 
man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body 



VICE AND ITS ALLUREMENTS. 181 

of this death ? " If, like that majestic apostle, he will 
fly to the grace of Christ, he will be enabled to join 
in his triumphal strains, and cry, "Nay, in all these 
things we are more than conquerors, through him that 
loved us /" and again — "This one thing I do — I 
keep my body under, and bring it into subjection" 

Fly, therefore, beloved young man, to the ark of 
our Divine religion for safety. There, the energy, 
the strength, the power of an inner life, shall be 
developed within you. Satisfied from within your- 
self, fortified by strong affection for virtue, and in- 
tense loathing against vice, you will be secure. Your 
character shall thus be lofty ; your purity unspotted ; 
your real enjoyment undiminished, yea, immeasura- 
bly increased ; your name, instead of being " writ in 
water," shall be engraved on the hearts of the good, 
and in the records of eternity. 
16 



NEW YOHK, N. Y, 
LIBRARY 



CHAPTER X. 

VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

ITH what graphic beauty has 
the pencil of Moses sketched the 
scenes of patriarchal life ! How 
true to human nature, how in- 
structive to a thoughtful mind, are 
his delineations of those ancient 
characters! But their highest enco- 
mium is their unquestionable truthful- 
ness. Let us study one of these pic- 
tures, and carefully extract its precious 
moral. 

Behold the venerable Abkahatu standing in the 
door-way of his tent, with his vigorous and manly 
nephew, Lot, at his side ! Lot is deeply agitated. 
The uneasy workings of restrained anger are visible 




VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 183 

m his flashing eye, knitted brows, and earnest man- 
ner. Let us listen to his words : 

" Eevered sire, our herdmen are at war with each 
other. Every day their contentions increase! Their 
strifes are not to be endured ! What can be done ? " 

Abraham, calm and dignified, replies, " Let there 
be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee, for 
we be brethren. Is not the whole land before thee ? 
Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me. If thou wilt 
take the left hand, I will go to the right ; or, if you 
depart to the right hand, I will go to the left ! " 

Upon this, Lot gazes at the lovely landscape 
spread out around them. It embraces the fertile vale 
of the Jordan, rich in its herbage, its wells and fruits. 
True the vile inhabitants of Sodom live on its bor- 
ders. But Lot has a worldly heart. He seeks only 
to be rich. Hence, on selfish and sinful principles 
alone, he selects the valley of the Jordan, and sepa- 
rating himself from his uncle, takes up his abode in 
the vale of Sodom, intent on acquiring and enjoying 
riches. Abraham removed his tent to Hebron. 

Scarcely has Lot established himself in his new 



184 young man's counsellor. 

home, before an invading army sweeps over the vale, 
and Lot, with his family and flock, is led away a 
prisoner. Abraham, with his good sword, hastens to 
his rescue, and he is restored. For a while, Lot now 
enjoys prosperity; but his children mostly fall into 
the vices of the place, and apostatize from God. 
The hour of Sodom's overthrow then arrived. 
Through the intercession of Abraham, Lot is warned 
of the impending danger, and leaving all his wealth 
and most of his children behind, he flees penniless to 
the mountains. On the way, his wife falls by the 
hand of God; and poor, destitute Lot, with two of his 
daughters, becomes the forlorn occupant of a moun- 
tain cave ! How different was this result from the 
sanguine expectation which swelled his breast on 
the day when, for mere purposes of profit and en- 
joyment, he pitched his tent beside the gate of 
Sodom ! 

What a melancholy lesson lies on the surface of 
this sketch ! How emphatically it teaches the doom 
of a worldly mind to disappointment ! How like a 
warning voice should the fate of Lot ring in the ears 



/ 

VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 185 

of the youth who is looking out upon the vale of life, 
and regarding the enchanting devices of evil with a 
strength of desire brooking no restraint ! The song, 
the dance, the revel, the theatre, the saloon, the 
gaudy sepulchre of departed virtue, all blend in the 
gay pictures of his fancy ; and he, like Lot, deliber- 
ately resolves to take up his abode in the vale of 
modern Sodom. Not that he intends to be as vile 
as others. O, no ! He is a perfect Hazael, con- 
templating vicious excess with a stern indignation 
which cries : "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do 
this thing 1" It is from limited indulgence he 
anticipates a harvest of delight. But, limited or 
excessive, the result is the same. Sinful pleasure, in 
all its Protean shapes, disappoints its victim. From 
the first delirious, intoxicating draught, to the last 
dreg in the cup, all is disappointment. Hear a vet- 
eran in the ranks of folly testify : 

" When all is won that all desire to woo, 
The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost. 
Youth wasted, mind degraded, honor lost, 
These are thy fruits, successful passion ! — these ! 
If, kindly cruel, early hope is crost, 

16* 



186 young man's counsellor. 

Still to the last it rankles, a disease 

Not to be cured when love itself forgets to please." 

But why, if the first experiences of young profli- 
gates are succeeded by disappointment, do they per 
sist ? Because they vainly hope that other untried 
indulgences will yield greater pleasure. They feai 
the contempt of their more daring associates; but 
chiefly because passion is a tyrant, a perfect Haynau. 
When once freed from the golden chain of innocence, 
it usurps absolute authority, and drives its victim 
like a helpless slave to ruin. The drunkard knows 
but too well the terrible power of his ever-craving 
appetite. His reason, his affections, his self-respect, 
his dearest friends, his present and eternal interests, 
all stand at the bar of this inward monster, and plead 
in vain. It impels him, in spite of himself, to sink 
into deeper misery. The same is true of every other 
vicious habit. He who enters upon a vicious career 
is like the man who is lured by a false light to ven 
ture on the treacherous quagmire ; once sunk in its 
fata., mud, every attempt to extricate himself only 
sinks him still deeper. Terrible, indeed, are his 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 187 

efforts, awful his apprehensions, fearful is his pros- 
pect of destruction. If he does escape, it is as if 
by miracle. "He is -carnal, sold under sin." He 
has surrendered the helm of his soul to his baser 
nature. Nothing short of a complete abandonment 
of himself to religion can restore that lost helm to 
the hand of reason. That step he will not take, and 
therefore he cannot pause in his wicked career. And 
this is one portion of a sinner's penalty. The pleas- 
ure he invited as a guest to beguile his hours of 
leisure, becomes his master. He sees his ruin, yet 
rushes upon it. Abject, stung to the quick, irritated, 
agonized and tortured, he writhes in vain struggles 
to free himself from his tyrant. Despondency seizes 
his mind, and often, as in the melancholy case of the 
late Dr. Morton, a young English physician, he con- 
cludes the tragedy by rushing, an unbidden guest, 
into the spiritual world. 

This Dr. Morton, who appears to have been a man 
of genius, had fallen into the vice of drunkenness. 
Many and fierce were his vain struggles for the mas- 



188 



tery, as may be seen by the following extract from 
his journal : — 

" I have only to remember my dreadful sufferings 
the morning after taking so much beer or wine. 
Low suicidal feelings, despondent and gloomy 
thoughts, pulse one hundred to one hundred and 
twenty, head dizzy, limbs tremulous, pains about the 
heart, flatulence and eructations, incapacity for duty 
of any kind, temper irritable and overbearing, expen- 
sive habits, loss of time, forgetfulness of engage- 
ments, everything in disorder, — and all for what ? 
Because I choose to take two 'pints of ale or half a 
bottle ofioine." 

As already intimated, this accomplished but un- 
happy man, finding himself enslaved to his darling 
vice, died by his own hand at the early age of thirty- 
six — a sad monument of the terrible effect of vice 
on a superior mind ! 

Byron has well described this despairing gloom 
which sooner or later overspreads the sinning 
soul : — 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 189 

"And vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb. 
Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise, 
Pleasure's palled victim ! Life abhorring gloom 
Wrote on his faded brow, cursed Cain's unresting doom." 

This power of passion to coerce reason has a 
remarkable illustration in the case of George Wachs, 
a German youth, who was apprenticed to one Schnee- 
weisser, a carpenter, at Soiling. This lad, the son 
of a small farmer, lived an irreproachably moral life 
until his eighteenth year, when he became disso- 
lute in his habits. He then grew wanton, riotous, 
disorderly and lazy ; fond of dress, and excessively 
vain. 

On the eve of a public festival, this unhappy lad 
fell into the company of a young man who ostenta- 
tiously displayed a watch. Wachs, who did not 
own a watch himself, suddenly conceived a desire to 
do so. This desire rapidly grew into an irresistible 
passion. Happening to enter a shoemaker's house, 
shortly after, to have his boots mended, his eye 
lighted on that gentleman's watch, which hung upon 
i nail in the wall beside him. Just at that moment 



190 young man's counsellor. 

the shoemaker's wife went out to market, and the 
children also left the house to play in the garden, 
Wachs and the shoemaker were alone. Impelled 
by his passion to obtain a watch, the dissolute youth 
stole behind his victim, and striking him with a 
large hammer on the temple, he killed him with a 
single blow. The wife returning shortly after, he 
murdered her also, lest she should betray him. To 
make discovery impossible, he killed "Little Mi- 
chael," their son, and, as he supposed, their daughter, 
Catherine; who, however, subsequently recovered 
from her wound, and became the principal witness on 
his trial, which resulted in his decapitation by the 
sword.^ 

This is an extreme case, I admit, but it is valuable 
because it shows the fearful weakness of the man 
who once surrenders himself to the control of his 
propensities. It proves the trite but terrible truth, 
that there is no propensity which may not, when 
fostered by indulgence and favored by circumstances, 

* See Narratives of Remarkable Criminal Trials. From the 
German of Anselm Ritter Von Feuerbach. Harper's edition. 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 191 

grow into an irresistible passion, and hurry a man 
into the commission of monstrous crimes ! 

Another consequence of vice is the remorseful 
sense of shame, the guilty consciousness of self-deg- 
radation which overwhelms a young sinner. No 
sooner does he quit the infamous haunts of slaugh- 
tered innocence, and retire to the silence and the sol- 
itude of his chamber, than the image of his offence 
fastens upon his soul with all the tenacity with 
which ghoul and vampyre are said to seize their 
prey. Who can tell the full bitterness of the young 
soul when reviewing its fall? The first violated 
Sabbath, or the first revel over the foaming wine- 
cup, or the first forbidden visit to the theatre, the 
gambler's den, or the chamber of pollution, is fol- 
lowed by fierce self-reproaches, by unutterable re- 
grets, by unspeakable stingings of conscience ! With 
eyes downcast, hands clasped, and heart burning 
with anguish, the young man cries, " What have I 
done ? Fool that I was, to listen to my tempters ! 
What would my mother feel, if she knew my guilt ? 
How can I ever look her in the face again, with this 



/ 



192 YQUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOE. 

spot upon my soul ? And oh, if I should die in th. . 
guilty state ! Alas ! alas ! I am undone ! " 

Thus do showers of burning thoughts fall upon 
his tortured soul with a severity which Coleridge 
compares to " needle-points of frost drizzling on a 
bald and feverish head." At length, with many a 
weak resolve to go no further in sin, he falls asleep. 
When he awakes, his terrors have departed. His 
propensities resume their sway, and he is hurried 
into blacker transgressions. By persevering in sin, 
he succeeds in hardening his conscience, until for 
the time being it ceases its terrors, and he sins on, 
" neither fearing God nor regarding man." 

It is impossible to predict with certainty the 
specific mode by which an abandoned youth will 
reach the goal of ruin. Neither can it be told how 
long or how short will be his career. These things 
depend upon which propensity plays the tyrant over 
him; upon his opportunities for self-indulgence; 
upon his caution ; upon many circumstances entirely 
beyond his control. But this much is certain, — w T ith 
out speedy and effectual reform, his kuin is a moral 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 193 

certainty ! How long it will be delayed, or in what 
form it will come, cannot be predicted ; but come it 
w r ill, as surely as consequence succeeds to cause. 
For, " though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not 
go unpunished" 

Sometimes the ruin of a vicious youth overtakes 
him with the swiftness of an arrow, as the following 
fact will show. A fine, noble-looking youth, — I will 
call him Keginald, — who had been piously trained, 
left his virtuous home to dwell in a large city. At 
first, every returning Sabbath beheld him an atten- 
tive listener in the house of God. But he fell into 
the company of the wicked ; resisted their seductions 
a while, then yielded. He now forsook the church 
for the haunts of pleasure. Being ardent in his tem- 
perament, he partook eagerly of every form of sin. 
The flowing bowl, the theatre, the gambling saloon, 
the brothel, witnessed his fiery zeal in the ways of 
iniquity. But his race was short, — his ruin terrible 
and speedy. Three months of guilty abomination 
sufficed to break down his physical constitution, anc* 
to lay his fine and noble form, a pitiful wreck, upon 
17 



194 

a dying bed. Let us take our stand beside him and 
witness the end of a vicious life. 

Mark his pale, attenuated face, covered with blotch- 
es, and distorted with the combined agonies of mind 
and body ! How languid and dull are his glassy 
eyes ! How painful his breathing ! How that deep, 
hoarse cough incessantly racks his almost fieshless 
body ! But hearken ! some one raps at the door ! 
See ! the patient turns his eyes upon the intruder, 
with an expression of horror ; then nervously clutch- 
ing the bed-clothes, he buries his head beneath the 
folds, and obstinately refuses all conversation ! 

Who is this visiter ? His countenance combines 
commanding dignity with bland benevolence, and is 
anything but offensive. Why, then, does the dying 
youth feel so disturbed by his presence ? The reader 
will understand the reason, when he learns that he 
is Reginald's former pastor. His person revives the 
memory of purer days, and the guilty sufferer dares 
not to see him. 

As Reginald will not converse, the good man offers 
a prayer, and, with his hand upon the door-latch, is 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 195 

preparing to leave. But now the dying victirfc un- 
covers his face, sits up in the bed, and cries : 

" Stop a minute, sir ! " 

The pastor returns to the bed-side. The sufferer's 
effort has exhausted his strength, and he has fallen 
back upon the pillows. As the minister bends over 
to catch his words, Reginald throws his skinny arms 
around his neck, and whispers, with awful emphasis, 
" I 'm lost ! " Then, burying himself once more 
beneath the clothes, he resolutely refuses all further 
conversation. Reader, that utterance was his last, 
for he never spoke again ! How awfully did that 
dear, ruined young man verify the saying of Solo- 
mon : "With her much fair speech she causeth him to 
yield ; with the flattering of her lips she forced him. 
He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the 
slaughter, or as a fool to the conviction of the stocks ; 
till a dart strike through his liver. As a bird hast' 
eth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his 
life ! » 

There can be no doubt that such cases as this are 
far from being rare. Vice is a swift and sure de- 



196 

stroj^r, and a youth who embraces her is as the 
early flower exposed to the untimely frost. Those 
who have perished thus are named "Legion," for 
they are many, — enough to convince every novice 
that he has no security that he shall escape a similar 
fate. 

Nor is it always by disease alone a young profli- 
gate finds a speedy and fatal termination to his 
career. Euin is a Briareus with many hands. As 
some large rivers debouch to the ocean through many 
mouths, so has vice many streams that lead to death. 
The vices, like the Furies, are sisters, and no man 
can espouse one without admitting the rest into his 
home. Hence, no sinner can tell whither his beset- 
ting sin will conduct him. Let the following fact 
illustrate and enforce this thought. 

A young man, whom I will name Arthur, nine- 
teen years of age, educated, handsome, of fascinating 
manners, and manly spirit, visited a certain city in 
search of business. There he unhappily fell into 
dissolute society, and began to run the giddy rounds 
of deep dissipation. A few months served to exhaust 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 197 

his finances and to run him into debt. A bill lay 
upon his table, one day, which he was required to 
pay the next morning. Not knowing what to do, 
he took the fatal step of selling an opera-glass, which 
he had borrowed from a gay friend ; and thus paid the 
bill. His friend called for the glass. Arthur, though 
much confused, frankly confessed his fault, and 
promised to obtain funds from home to remunerate 
the loser. But his quondam friend had the heart of 
a Shylock, and hurried the astonished and mortified 
young man to the police court, charging him with 
the crime of stealing the opera-glass. After a sum- 
mary hearing, he was committed for trial, and im- 
mured in jail. 

He was placed in a cell with another prisoner, — a 
young man. As soon as he found himself there, the 
full measure of his disgrace rose before his agonized 
mind. Casting himself to the ground, he cried to 
f his fellow-prisoner, in tones of exquisite anguish : 
" Cut my throat ! kill me ! trample me to death ! 
My parents ! How can I ever look them in the face 



again ? " 



IT* 



198 



He grew more and more excited, beat his head 
upon the stone floor with such violence that his 
companion seized him and called lustily for aid. 
The turnkey came, and judging from his paroxysms 
that he was in a fever, called for a physician, who 
pronounced him to be in imminent danger of dying. 
A distinguished philanthropist was sent for, who 
bailed the young man, and conveyed him to his own 
residence. Touched by the affectionate kindness of 
this benevolent man, the youth stated that his father 
was a clergyman, and his relatives wealthy.. The 
peril of life being very great, his generous protector 
wrote an account of the sad affair, and summoned 
the father to his son's death-bed. 

While the letter was on its way, during an inter- 
val of calmness, he was asked if he would not like to 
see his father once more. 

"0 no! Let me die rather — kill me! I have 
brought dishonor upon his gray hairs, and how can I 
look upon his face again? Let me die, but have pity 
on my poor father ! " 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 199 

The father arrived. " Your father is below, wait- 
ing to see you," said his attendant. 

The sufferer uttered a piercing groan, covered his 
face, and exclaimed : 

"I can't see him! I can't — I can't! Speak to 
him for me ; tell him I died — " 

Here the venerable father entered, and stood trans- 
fixed with agony beside his dying son! What a 
scene ! That noble boy, that cherished child, pol- 
luted with profligate habits, disgraced by crime, 
dying of mental torture — and that aged minister, 
that white-haired father, gazing unutterable pity, and 
pierced with anguish that beggars description ! Can 
aught of misery be fancied more exquisite or excru- 
ciating? Yet, young man, that scene grew out of 
just such indulgences as you are feverishly panting 
tc enjoy. Pause, I beseech you ! Examine well the 
ground you long to tread. Inquire seriously if you 
are prepared to receive the consequences before you 
set the cause in motion. For as surely as you aban- 
don virtue, sooner or later, "The Lord shall give thee 
a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of 



200 young man's counsellor. 

mind, and thy life shall hang in doubt before thee, 
and thou shalt fear day and night. In the morning 
thou shalt say, would God it were evening ; and in 
the evening, would God it were morning : for the 
fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear ; and 
for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see ' " 

But a vicious life does not always come to so sud- 
den and speedy a conclusion. God often suffers the 
sinner to fill up a large measure of sin, and to place 
the hour of retribution far off. When this is the 
case, the heart grows stout and bold. The con- 
science becomes blind, and dead to feeling. The 
fear of God is entirely cast off. Eeligion is treated 
as a fable. The Gospel is trampled under foot, and 
the man, made brutish, vile and abominable, becomes 
" a vessel of wrath fitted to destruction ! " 

Now, I doubt not that the reader, in the plenitude 
of his self-confidence, has thought himself strong 
enough to enter on vicious pursuits, without com- 
mitting those crimes which destroy reputation, and 
lead to the prison. Well, he may stop short on the 
brink. The thing is abstractly possible, — just as a 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 201 

man might gallop a furious horse down a steep path 
which terminates at a precipice with a deep gulf 
beneath, and rein up his beast at the very brink. 
But the peril would be so imminent, none but a mad- 
man would venture on the experiment. So you may 
give passion the reins until it carries you close to 
crime, and then resume the bridle and save yourself. 
The risk is fearful, however, and no prudent youth 
will dare to incur it. 

There are two facts which the uninitiated young 
sinner does not duly weigh. The first is, that vice 
so deadens the moral sense, and so blinds the mind, 
that crime does not appear the same horrible thing as 
it did in the happy days of innocence. The second 
is, that the cost of illicit pleasures exceeds the re- 
sources of most young sinners. Once taken in their 
net, the foolish youth is too weak to break the 
entangling meshes. He must sin on. Hence, he 
must have money. Honorably he cannot obtain it. 
The card-table, the dice-box, billiards, lotteries, and 
other modes of gambling, invite him to replenish his 
empty purse by their aid. The poor dupe tries, and 



202 young man's counsellor. 

finds himself fleeced and reduced to extremities. 
What is to be done ? He has gone too far to retrace 
his steps. Yet, he must extricate himself in some 
way. The tempter whispers the guilty thought of 
robbing his employers. He starts back at the mere 
idea of such an act. But his debts are pressing upon 
him, his habits are expensive, his passions imperious. 
Again the tempter whispers in his heart. The idea 
haunts him by day and by night, until by familiarity 
its malign aspect loses its power to terrify. The 
attempt is resolved on, but on some specious mental 
pretence of afterwards restoring what is to be taken. 
The opportunity offers itself. The deed is done, and 
the young sinner trembles to find himself a thief ! 
Gradually his fears depart. Finding himself unde- 
tected, he steals again, until it becomes his settled 
practice to embezzle the property of his employer, in 
order to pay the expenses of his lusts. Discovery 
comes, at length, and he who began his career by 
going to a theatre ends it in the shame and igno- 
miny of a prison. As said a weeping and disconso- 
late mother, one day, to a minister, who, seeing her 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 203 

distress, asked, "What is the matter with you, 
madam ? " 

" O my child ! my child ! He is just committed 
to prison ! 0, that theatre ! He was a virtuous, 
kind youth, until the theatre proved his ruin." Nor 
was this woman's son an exception. The commis- 
sioners of the Pentonville prison, in Great Britain, 
affirm that ninety-five per cent, of the criminals in 
British jails were made so by vices, whose cost, ex- 
ceeding their incomes, led to the perpetration of 
crime ! How dangerous a thing is vice ! Who is 
safe, when so many have fallen ? Young reader, 
beware ! Crime and imprisonment are the legitimate 
consequences of sinful indulgences. Hence, if you 
shudder at the idea of being the inmate of a jail, 
beware of the first step in the way thereto. 

Would you know somewhat of the effects of vice 
upon that physical constitution which it does not 
immediately destroy ? Then, mark that man who is 
slowly toiling along the street, leaning upon his cane. 
With what difficulty he drags one emaciated leg 
after the other ! How thin and angular are his form 



204 young man's counsellor. 

and features ! Every slow movement proclaims nis 
excessive languor. There is no health or vigor in 
his motion. His breath is short. A weak, hollow 
cough, distresses him. His face is pale as death. 
His eyes, covered with a glassy film, have no expres- 
sion. His whole appearance is that of abject misery. 
But see, he has seated himself on that door-step to 
rest ! Let us question him as to his sufferings. 
Hearken, as in a low, husky voice, he details his list 
of pains ! " My head," he says, " is always dizzy. 
I have a constant headache. My memory is gone, 
and I cannot confine my mind to any subject of 
thought. I find it difficult to apprehend an idea : 
labor or study are loathsome to me. My strength is 
all gone. My back, my sides, my limbs, are in con- 
stant pain, and my mind and body are sinking into 
utter ruin ! " 

This is terrible. Suppose we ask, " What brought 
you into this state, friend ? " 

Hear his reply, as he gazes upon us with a look 
of unutterable despair : "I brought it all upon myself \ 

BY INDULGENCE IN SOLITARY AND SOCIAL VICES ! " 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 23b 

Sad confession ! Nevertheless, my picture is from 
life. Vice makes war upon every function in the 
human body. The brains, the heart, the lungs, tht 
liver, the spine, the limbs, the bones, the flesh, ever} 
part and faculty, are overtaxed, worn, weakened, fry 
the terrific energy of passion and appetite loosed 
from restraint, until, like a dilapidated mansion, the 
" earthly house of this tabernacle" falls into " ruin- 
ous decay." 

I have already described the tumult awakened in 
the conscience of a young profligate by his first steps 
in the wrong direction ; and also the agony, despond- 
ency and misery, occasioned by a discovery of his 
inability to break his self-imposed bonds. The for- 
mer state of mind is usually followed by one of hard- 
ened indifference, until the latter commences. But 
this settled gloom, bad as it is, does not compare in 
its terribleness with the more fearful sufferings of 
his heart when, toward the close of earthly existence, 
he is visited by the horrors of Kemorse, that frown- 
ing " rock that stops the current of our thought to 
God." Then, 

IS 



206 young man's counsellor. 

" The past lives o'er again 
In its effects, and to the guilty spirit 
The ever-frowning present is its image." 

Then he understands the truth of Coleridge's 
striking lines : — 

tc Just heaven instructs us, with an awful voice, 
That conscience rules us, e'en against our choice. 
Our inward monitress to guide and warn, 
If listened to ; but, if repelled with scorn, 
At length, as dire remorse she reappears, 
Works in our guilty hopes and selfish fears, 
Still bids remember and still cries too late. 
And while she scares us, goads us to our fate." 

How much a sinner suffers from the sting of 
remorse, no pen can describe, no heart can fancy. 
" The agonies inflicted by the wolf that fed on the 
life-stream of the Spartan, the poison injected by the 
tooth of the viper, or the three-fanged sting of the 
scorpion, are as nothing when contrasted with the 
stings of an accusing conscience. Most truly has an 
American writer observed that there is no manliness 
or fortitude can bear up under the horrors of guilt. 
The thing is done ; yet it rises, in all its vivid color- 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 207 

ing, to the soul that has incurred it, overwhelming it 
with remorse and despair. The reproaches of con- 
science, once thoroughly aroused, can neither be 
silenced nor borne. No human spirit can sustain its 
energies under such a burden, when it really comes." 
Hence, notorious criminals, who have denied their 
crimes while stretched on racks and wheels, have 
subsequently surrendered themselves to justice 
through the fiercer torments of remorse. To con- 
firm these remarks, I submit two or three confessions 
which fell from the lips of some wretched victims of 
remorse. 

" I would die, — I dare not die ! I would live, — 1 
dare not live ! 0, what a burden is the hand of an 
angry God!" exclaimed the terrified Viscount Ken- 
muir, in his dying moments. 

" Is your mind at ease ? " asked Dr. Turton, of 
the departing Oliver Goldsmith, as he lay tossed 
with an anguish deeper than what his disease occa- 
sioned. 

11 No, it is not ! " was the sad reply of the once 
gay and jolly author of "The Deserted Village/ 



208 young man's counsellor 

as, deserted of God, he fought his last battle with 
Death. 

"I feel the weight of God's wrath burning like 
the pains of hell within me, and pressing on my con- 
science with an anguish which cannot be described!" 
cried the apostate Francis Spira, when writhing in 
the agonies of death. 

" My dear, you appear as if your heart were break- 
ing," said a weeping lady to her dying infidel hus- 
band, whose distress appeared to be unendurable. 

" Let it break ! Let it break ! but it is hard work 
to die ! " he replied. Then directing a glance toward 
heaven, he cried, 

" Lord, have mercy ! Jesus save ! " and died. 

Now, all this is most shocking to contemplate. 
What, then, must its endurance be ? And it is 
nothing more than the harvest gathered from a 
vicious life. Every illicit enjoyment is a seed of 
such torment as this. The guilty revel over the 
wine-cup, the scoff at religion, the sneer at piety, 
the hilarity of the dance, the embrace of lust, the 
violated Sabbath, the profane expression, are each 



VICE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 209 

and all the substances of those images which rise up, 
grim and ghostly, to torment the remorseful sinner. 
If, then, my dear young friend, you tremble at the 
consequences, shun the cause — sow not the seed — 
touch not the sin — stray not from the side of virtue ! 
But if you will, despite of all warning voices, seek to 
know the mysteries of vice, then I say to you, in the 
language of inspiration : 

"Rejoice, oh young man, in thy youth ; and let thy 
heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in 
the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes : 

BUT KNOW THOU THAT FOR ALL THESE THINGS GoD 
WILL BRING THEE INTO JUDGMENT. THEREFORE, PUT 

away evil from thy flesh ! " Seek the aids of pure 

religion. Cleave to purity, quiet, and virtue, and 

thus you " shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from 

fear of evil." 

18* 




CHAPTER XL 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 

1 Come home ! — there is a sorrowing breath 

In music since ye went ; 
And the early ilower-scents wander by, 

With mournful memories blent. 
The tones in every household voice 

Are grown more sad and deep, 
And the sweet word — brother— wakes a wish 

To turn aside and weep." 

HESE exquisite lines, by Mrs. 
Hemans, give a beautiful expres- 
sion to those tender affections 
which plead with every young 
man to maintain his affinity with 
home and its virtuous pleasures. 
They show the strength of those re- 
straining influences with which God 
would fain hold the young sinner back 
from vice. All its love and all its friendship 
plead with him, weep over him, wait for him. 
Though by his profligacy he has dug a gulf 
between it and himself, yet it maintains an unalien- 




VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 211 

ated regard, and with open arms and unutterable 
emotion, cries, " Come home ! " Holy love ! Affec- 
tion almost divine ! How strange, that the voices of 
lust and infamy should ever exert a more controlling 
power over a young man's spirit than these loving 
voices of home ! 

Yet so it is in every instance of youthful delin- 
quency. The false-hearted victims of foul iniquity 
sway his soul, and render him deaf to the pleadings 
of his best and purest friends. His foolish heart 
yields itself up to vicious seducers, whose only aim is 
his destruction. A fashionable popinjay, a foppish 
blackguard, a gambler, a filthy harlot, *s permitted to 
silence and push aside a venerable father, a fond 
mother, a pure sister, and a noble brother ! This 
fact alone exhibits the hatefulness of vice, and should 
cause a young man to seriously pause before placing 
a foot on the accursed threshold of its infamous tem- 
ple. To describe the seducers to vice, and to cau- 
tion my reader against them, are my aims in this 
chapter. 

Bad books and impure pictures are among the .first 



212 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

corrupting instrumentalities which debase a young 
mind. With the former may be ranked the innu- 
merable novels which are perpetually issuirjg from 
unprincipled presses ; all kinds of amorous poetry ; 
and a class of filthy books, pretending to be medical, 
physiological, and instructive, while in reality they 
are only disgusting stimulants to unholy, prurient 
desires. Among the latter are those engravings and 
paintings, whether in books or papers, or on the cov- 
ers of snuff-boxes, &c, which, from their immodesty, 
are calculated to defile the mind and call the latent 
depravity of the heart into action. These vile pro- 
ductions of misdirected art the young man who 
values his moral character must refuse to see. If 
they are brought under his notice, he must resolutely 
turn away his eyes from gazing upon them ; for as 
sure as he takes pleasure in them, he will be undone. 
So of novels ; they must be rejected with invincible 
determination. 

But are all novels to be eschewed ? Are not some 
of them pure both in style and tendency ? To this 
last question I reply, it is true that some novels are 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 213 

better than others ; in themselves they may be un- 
spotted. Yet in one point they do harm ; they 
create a taste for fictitious reading. This taste soon 
acquires the intensity of a passion. The mind 
acquires a craving for excitement, and thus the 
youth, who begins by revelling among the splendid 
paintings of Sir Walter Scott's pen, or by sub- 
jecting himself to the quiet enchantment of Fredrika 
Bremer's spirit, will speedily seek the works of more 
impassioned authors. He will hasten from Dickens 
to James, from James to Bulwer, from Bulwer to 
Ainsworth, from him to Eugene Sue, and finally 
he will steep his polluted mind in the abominations 
of that Moloch among novelists, Paul de Kock. By 
this time he is ready for destruction. By venturing 
into the pleasant ripple, he has been tempted to sport 
in the heaving breakers, until, caught by the resist- 
less under current, he is borne out to sea, and meets 
a premature death. How much better to have 
avoided the ripple ! Young man, beware of reading 
your first novel ! 

But alas ! this counsel is probably too late. You 



214 



are already under the spell of the charmer, and can 
hardly tolerate these censures. *Not that you have 
no doubts concerning the effects of such reading, but 
you love it — passionately love it! You demand 
proof of the evil charged on these works. 

Such proof is to be found in the experience of all 
novel-readers. Every such person knows that they 
corrupt the heart, through the imagination. They 
portray persons, characters and scenes, to the imag- 
ination, which, being viewed there, inevitably bestir 
the lowest propensions of poor, fallen nature. The 
thief, the blasphemer, the sceptic, the seducer, the 
gambler, — - ideal wretches, whose actual presence in 
our home would be deemed a disgrace, — are freely 
introduced into the " chambers of imagery," and per- 
mitted to utter all their filthy conversation, and to do 
their disgusting deeds, directly before the mind. Can 
this be done with impunity ? Nay ! As well might 
one hope to handle melted pitch and avoid defile- 
ment ; for the imagination cannot be polluted by vile 
images, without causing the heart to give forth 
depraved eruptions ! 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 215 

These eruptions may not take place at once. 
They may delay to show themselves for a time, but 
the igniting spark is there and only awaits a proper 
combination of circumstances to break forth. " Be- 
hold a fire smouldering and slumbering amid a heap 
of cinders. For a time it makes no progress ; it 
dwells in darkness. One would suppose it had made 
up its mind for extinction. But judge not too has- 
tily. The mass around has been penetrated by the 
heat, and prepared for its function. The fire has 
been blending itself with the cinders, and is ready to 
break out. Stir them once more. Clear them for 
the draught. Touch them once more, and the whole 
will break out into a conflagration." Thus it is with 
pernicious images in the mind. Their influence per- 
meates the spirit. They fire the heart ; they prepare 
the senses. Then comes the guilty opportunity, and 
the breath of the tempter. The spark ignites. The 
soul is in a blaze of passion. The sin is committed 
The deed is done : and guilt binds its fearful burden 
upon the conscience, with chains of triple steel ! 

Dante has delicately described the sad result o! 



216 young man's counsellor 

inflaming the heart through such vile books. In his 
imaginary journey through perdition, he describes 
his interview with Paolo and France sc a, an Italian 
lord and lady who were put to death for the crime 
of adultery. After questioning the guilty lady con- 
cerning her sin, he gives the following lines as her 
answer to his inquiries. She says : 

" One day 
For our delight we read of Lancelot,* 
How him love thralled. Alone we were, and no 
Suspicion near us. Oft times by that reading 
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue 
Fled from our altered cheek. But at one point 
Alone we fell. 

***** 
* ■ The book and writer both 
Were guilt's purveyors. In its leaves that day 
We read no more." 

The poet has shown, in this exceedingly delicate 
passage, how a bad book became the instrument of 
an evil which cost the virtue and lives of the parties. 
With these views before him, will any young man, 

* The hero of the old romance. He was one of the knights of 
the famous Round Table. 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 217 

who sets the least value upon his innocency, dare to 
run the risk of losing it for the sake of the dangerous 
pleasure afforded by a corrupting book? If my 
young reader has already fallen into the snare, let 
him glance a moment at his peril, and escape while 
he may. For though, by some extraordinary meas- 
ure of Providence, he may escape from utter ruin, 
yet he cannot by any possibility avoid a high degree 
of hurt to his intellectual and moral nature. If, as 
Tennyson has written, every man may truly say, 

" I am a part of all that I have met ;" 

and if, as a writer in the Edinburgh Review beauti- 
fully remarks, " the stream will make mention of 
its bed, — the river will report of those shores which, 
sweeping through many regions and climes, it has 
washed, — then those currents of thought whose 
sources lie afar off" must be affected by the quality 
of the books through which it has run. The char- 
acter must be more or less modified by the intellect- 
ual companionships of its early years. Reject, 
therefore, with virtuous horror, every book, however 
19 



218 



fascinating or eloquent it may be, which tends to 
stimulate any evil propensity of your nature. Turn 
from it with disgust. It is a seducer of virtue, a 
pander to vice, — an evil to be abominated, shunned 
and dreaded. 

Next to bad books comes the influence of aban- 
doned companions. To seduce the innocent into a 
depth of iniquity as deep as that into which them- 
selves have fallen, is the delight of bad men. Some 
do this for what they may gain of their unhappy 
dupe ; others, for the fiendish pleasure it affords 
a depraved heart to see itself equalled in wickedness 
by kindred minds. Mind, like air, seeks its equi- 
librium. Hence, a virtuous youth may settle it as 
an indisputable fact, that his guilty companions will 
either drag him down to their level, or he must 
raise them up to his. Otherwise, they must cease 
intercourse. 

It is rare that a novice in iniquity falls at once 
into the hands of finished seducers. Novices are 
usually reached at first by young men of their own 
age, who have recently taken their first degrees in 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 219 

glaring sin. The merry, roystering jollity of such 
sinners, their gayety of spirit, their apparent happi- 
ness, the glowing descriptions they give of their fes- 
tivities, the sly hints they throw out at the greenness 
of the uninitiated, the half-playful, half-earnest ban- 
terings with which they greet their bashful excuses 
for not joining in their vices, are the first seductive 
influences which usually reach young men from the 
wicked. By these means they learn to love their 
society; they lose their relish for the purity and 
quiet of home ; they feel mortified at their ignorance 
of iniquitous practices ; until, surrendering them- 
selves to the guidance of these children of sin, they 
take costly lessons for themselves in Sabbath-break- 
ing, in drinking revels, and in forbidden visits to 
that pandemonium of all evil, the theatre. 

Here, then, young man, is the turning-point of 
your destiny. When your heart first feels enchanted 
by young men whom you know to be the occasions 
of grief to their friends and of suspicion to their em- 
ployers, your danger is imminent and extreme. The 
fact that you fail to discern the full enormity of their 



220 young man's counsellor. 

practices, is the sign that you are marked for destruc- 
tion. There is a certain bird which prepares its 
prey for its talons, by fluttering over its head and 
blinding its eyes with the sand with which it previ- 
ously covers itself. The brilliant devices of gay sin- 
ners, like sand, blinding your eyes to the conse- 
quences of sin, fit you to be their prey. Now, there- 
fore, or never, is your opportunity to escape. Break 
away at once from their snares, or you are undone. 
Once abandoned to their influence, you are lost. 
They will lead you from sin to sin, until you are as 
highly accomplished in the arts of vice as the worst. 
Remember, that " evil companions will blight in you 
the delicate flower of innocence, which diffuses itself 
around youth as a sweet perfume." 

Among the more finished seducers to vice are the 
gambler, the libertine, and the sceptic. These are 
walking pestilences, less merciful to their victims 
than the howling wolf to the bleating lamb. Woe 
unto the young man who falls into their power ! 

The gambler is usually a drunkard. He needs 
the stimulus of spirits to sustain the excitements of 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 221 

the card-table. He has no principles of honor, or 
integrity ; for cheating is his trade. He has no pity. 
His heart is as adamant. He will fleece his victim 
of the last penny he has in the world, though he 
knows the poor dupe has a starving family at home, 
and will either go forth from his den to become a 
robber, or to rush unbidden into the presence of hi* 
God. He has the body of a man, but the spirit of & 
devil. It is his meat and his drink to destroy and 
ruin his fellow-creatures. Yet, this is the man who 
will greet a young man with smiles and with flattery; 
who will praise his skill, laud his courage, and pre- 
dict his success at the gaming-table. This is the 
man to whom silly youths surrender themselves. 
Will you, my reader, study this etching well ? Im- 
print it on your memory, and, if ever you are unhap- 
pily lured into his den, call it up in its freshness, and 
let it hold you back from becoming either his victim 
or his representative. 

The libertine is a beast in human form. He is a 
man enslaved in chains, self-wrought and riveted by 

his own hands. The dignity of his manhood is 
19* 



222 YOUNG MAN S COUNSELLOR. 

obliterated. Every noble human quality, every ele- 
vating attribute of character, and every God-like trait, 
are defaced, blurred and buried underneath the teem- 
ing vices of sensuality? His very aspect proclaims 
his deep degradation. In place of the calm intel- 
lectuality which robes a virtuous countenance with 
grace and splendor, is the downcast, expressionless 
look of the mere animal. His neglected and stunted 
soul, long enchained, like a galley-slave, by the 
tyrannical senses and passions, seems to have lost its 
high powers of reasoning and willing, and to tamely 
endure a bondage it cannot escape. A corrupt and 
loathsome wretch, the libertine sins on, until his 
filthy body tumbles, a heap of ruins, into an oblivious 
grave. 

Do such disgusting creatures as these ever become 
the seducers of virtuous young manhood? They 
do ! For even they can lure with the tongue. 
They can draw inflaming pictures to the fancy ; they 
can sneer at the ignorance of innocence ; they can 
persuade the unwary youth to venture across the 
threshold of infamy. They find infamous pleasure 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 223 

in the overthrow of virtuous resolve. Woe, there- 
fore, to him who dares to venture into their society ! 
They begin their efforts by hints, and as Tupper 
properly remarks, 

" Hints shrewdly strown mightily disturb the spirit, 
The sly suggestion toucheth nerves, and nerves contract the 

fronds, 
And the sensitive mimosa of affection trembleth to its root." 

Libertines understand this principle. Hence, they 
are careful to captivate by sly innuendoes, and not to 
disgust by gross description. When their victim is 
sufficiently blunted in his moral sensibility, and ex- 
cited in his passion, they lead him, half reluctant, 
half willing, into the path of the " strange woman." 
The word of God graphically describes the unhappy 
simpleton, who suffers himself to be thus beguiled : 

" I beheld," says the wise man, " among the sim- 
ple ones ; I discerned among the youths a young 
man void of understanding, passing through the 
street near her corner; and he went the way to her 
house, in the twilight, in the evening, in the black 
and dark night. ' 



224 

How striking is this picture ! How life-like its 
pencilling of the young man who is laboring to break 
down the last bulwark of virtue in his soul ! His 
already polluted mind, brought into subjection by the 
baser passions, impels him, when the sun is down, to 
venture within the precincts of iniquity. He walks 
around the place of vile resort, as if inviting the 
temptation of the wretched creatures who abide 
there. Later in the evening, he repeats his walk ; 
just as the moth returns to the flame of the lamp. 
At length, the hour most fitted for crime arrives, — 
" the black and dark night." And continues Solo- 
mon, " Behold there met him a woman with the 
attire of an harlot, and subtile of heart. So she 
caught him and kissed him, and with an impudent 
face said unto him : ' Come, let us take our fill of 
love until the morning.' With her much fair speech 
she caused him to yield, with the flattering of her 
lips she forced him. He goeth after her straight- 
way, AS AN OX GOETH TO THE SLAUGHTER, OR AS A 
FOOL TO THE CORRECTION OF THE STOCKS ! " 

Such is the process of ruin. Let the reader study 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 225 

this description until he feels an irrepressible loathing 
toward that impudent seducer of virtue, and a terri- 
ble dread of standing- in the place of that simple 
youth. For, awful indeed is the fate that awaits 
him. His sin will cause "a dart to strike through 
his liver ! " The house he enters is " the way to 

HELL, GOING DOWN TO THE CHAMBERS OF DEATH." 

The feet of the woman he follows "go down to 

DEATH : HER STEPS TAKE HOLD ON HELL." Her power 

*s so resistless, that "none that go to her return 
again : neither take they hold of the paths of life." 
She binds them fast in her bonds, until they " mourn 
at the last when their flesh and their body ark 

CONSUMED ! " 

Are not these fearful descriptions sufficient to call 
a vow from your heart, young man, never to fall into 
such hands ? or to induce you, if you are deceived 
by some diabolical wretch, as was a young man I 
will call Peter Percy, and led to the snare, to 
burst it and depart ? Peter was conducted by a 
designing companion into a house of ill repute, whose 
character he did not even suspect. His pretended 



226 young man's counsellor. 

friend led him into a chamber, introduced him to a 
poor, fallen creature, and, turning away, locked the 
door, and left him, as he thought, a sure prey to the 
charmer. But virtue was strong in Peter's soul. 
He saw his danger at a glance. To parley was to 
fall. Eunning to the window, he beheld a distance 
of several feet between him and the ground. To 
leap, might make him lame for life. To refrain, 
might spot his soul forever. What is a physical 
hurt, compared with moral pollution ? Nothing ! 
So thought Peter ; and he leaped from the window 
to the ground unhurt. A noble and manly act. It 
probably saved Peter's body from destruction, and his 
soul from hell. Young man, " Go thou and do like- 
wise ! " Ever be ready to say to libertine or harlot : 
w How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against 
God ? " Thus shall you "find life, and obtain favor 
of the Lord:' 

The sceptic, the third I named among the finished 
seducers to vice, is usually a greedy devourer of 
souls. Miserable, unprincipled, given over to work 
iniquity, he has an appetite, for ruined souls, as insa- 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 227 

tiable as the horse-leech or the grave. Though 
every sentence he utters against God and revelation 
stings his own soul like an adder, yet he pours forth 
his proud and haughty blasphemies in floods of irony, 
sarcasm, and jests at sacred things. Furious in his 
temper, he brooks no denial of his monstrous doc- 
trines. A mere sciolist in reality, he makes a great 
show of knowledge by quoting a few passages he has 
picked up from infidel books, and thus often con- 
founds the modest youth whom he assaults. Merci- 
less as a catamount, he would corrupt the purest 
human mind on earth, though he knew it would 
thereby be brought down to the misery of the hell 
whose unceasing fires burn within his own bosom. 
His grand instrument of seduction is contempt. He 
sneers at truth, and then hypocritically asks his in- 
tended victim if a man of sense and mind can 
believe such nonsense. Thus, by degrees, he induces 
young men to grow proud of their imaginary superi- 
ority, and to feel ashamed of revealed truth. This 
accomplished, the remainder of his satanic task is 
easy; for as waters*flow readily when the obstructing 



228 YOUNG- MAN'S COUNSELLOR. 

dam is demolished, so, when belief in God and reve- 
lation is shaken, sin flows unrestrained from the 
depraved heart. 

Beware, then, of the sceptic ! Keep away from 
his person ! Would you inhale the breath of the 
pestilence ? Would you rush into the folds of a 
serpent ? Would you leap into the enraged ocean ? 
Yet either of these things is as proper to be done as 
to place yourself under the influence of a sceptic ! 
Shun his society, therefore ! Be satisfied to know 
that the best thing infidelity ever did, even for its 
princes and champions, was to corrupt their lives and 
to fill them with unutterable remorse. "Lord Her- 
bert, Hobbes, Lord Shaftsbury, Woolston, Tin- 
dal, Chubb, and Lord Bolingbroke, were all guilty 
of the vile hypocrisy of lying." Rochester and 
Wharton were profligates. Woolston was a gross 
blasphemer. Blount, a suicide. Voltaire was 
noted for " impudent audacity, filthy sensuality, per- 
secuting envy, base adulation," tyranny and cruelty. 
Rousseau was a thief, a liar and a profligate.^ Need 

* See Home's Introduction, chap, i., pages 24—26. 



VICE AND ITS SEDUCERS. 229 

I say more ? With such historical examples before 
his eyes, what young man will dare to suffer a scep- 
tic to throw his seductive influences around him ? 
Surely my reader will flee from him as for his life. 

Evil companions are, therefore, to be totally 
avoided. Safety is to be purchased only at the price 
of entire abstinence from their society; for, as he 
v/ho tastes his first glass of intoxicating drink has 
no security against becoming a drunkard, so he 
who finds a little delight in the society of partially 
corrupted persons has abandoned the ground of 
absolute safety. He is within a charmed circle. 
The incantation has begun. The demon of the 
circle is nigh. Soon will he present the bond by 
which the young dupe will sign away his virtue, his 
hopes, his soul. Beware ! oh, beware, then, of every 
one of the seducers to vice ! Eeject the bad book : 
turn away from the vile picture ; refuse your com- 
pany to the wicked ! Seek God and his children ; so 
shall you happily escape the dangers of life, and w T in 
a crown of eternal glory ! 
20 



CHAPTER XII. 

COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 

EHOLD yonder mass of barren 
rock, without a tuft of moss or 
lichen upon its surface ! The wind 
rises, and a cloud of dust fills the 
air. A portion of this dust lodges in 
the numerous interstices of the rock, 
and ere long a tiny tuft of moss, borne 
Hffon the wings of the breeze, or dropping 
» from a neighboring tree, falls into a 
9 crevice filled with dust, vegetates, spreads, 
and covers the rock with a carpet of green. 
The moss decays and grows again. The 
stratum increases. Other plants spring up from 
seeds wafted to the spot by the ever-changing wind. 
These grow and rot, thereby increasing the depth of 
the soil, until, in the progress of time, it acquires 
depth sufficient to nourish the noblest forest trees. 




COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 231 

These humble mosses also powerfully attract moist- 
ure from the clouds, which, trickling through every 
crevice, finds its way to the lowest nook, accumu- 
lates, becomes first a rivulet, then a brook, a cascade, 
a river. This, flowing into the ocean, forms clouds 
by evaporation, and once more falls to fertilize the 
earth. 

Thus does an observant philosopher describe the 
great results which nature brings forth from small 
beginnings. Yet, how many never dream of conse- 
quences from a cloud of dust ! It is too small a mat- 
ter to awaken a thought. So of a myriad more of 
nature's labors. They are the workings of an Invis- 
ible, Omnipotent God — the necessary processes of 
the world's existence. But men pass blindly on, and 
see nothing in them sufficiently significant to arrest 
their attention. 

There is a corresponding blindness concerning 
many of those human actions whose consequences 
reach far into the future of man's existence. The 
commencement of that affectionate intercourse be- 
tween a youth and a maiden, called courtship, is an 



232 young man's counsellor. 

example. How little is thought of the first buddings 
of love between two young persons ! By the parents 
it is often deemed a fitting subject for joke and 
laughter. The parties themselves, conscious chiefly 
of a mutual attraction, abandon themselves to roman- 
tic visions of future bliss, and to efforts to please each 
other. Little do they dream that from their gay and 
lightsome intercourse is to proceed a stream of ex- 
quisite delight, or of burning poison, running parallel, 
perhaps, with their immortal existence. Yet so it is. 
A life of bitter, bitter anguish, or of as much happi- 
ness as is permitted to mortals on earth, lies enclosed 
in the, but too lightly esteemed, state of courtship. 
Next to marriage, it is the gravest and most solemn 
affair relating to life this side the grave. 

Erroneous views of courtship have their founda- 
tion in low and ignoble ideas concerning marriage 
itself. How is marriage regarded by most young 
men? Alas! is it not viewed chiefly as a legal 
method of gratifying the sexual appetite? — as "a 
means of sensual gratification," — "for the mere 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 233 

physical purpose of the continuance of the race?"* 
With these views of marriage, is it at all surprising 
that the courtship which stands in so intimate a rela- 
tion to it is carried on in a light, unworthy, and 
even impure spirit ? Is it wonderful that the parties 
frequently violate the laws of modesty, and become 
guilty before God and man ? Is it strange that 
moral and intellectual affinities and repugnances are 
overlooked and disregarded ? Nay, the wonder is, 
that these things are not more common. 

Now, young man, I wish you, as a moral and 
intellectual creature, to open your eyes, and behold 
with grateful wonder the noble designs of God; 
which lie hidden beneath this question of marriage. 
True, it has a physical purpose to accomplish. By 
it our species are to be continued in the healthiest 
and purest manner. But running parallel with this 
is the higher, nobler, loftier design of developing the 
purest affections of the heart, and the loveliest excel- 
lences of our nature. As Dr. Ware has well said, 

* See a recent work by Dr. Ware, called " Hints to Young Men 
»n the True Relation of the Sexes. 55 

20* 



234 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

" The permanent union of one man with one woman 
establishes a relation of affections and interests which 
can in no other way be made to exist between two 
human beings. Without it, no individual can be 
considered as having answered the whole purpose of 
his existence — of having arrived at the full develop- 
ment of which he is capable. He is incomplete and 
imperfect. He has tendencies, capacities, powers for 
good, which have never been called out, which he 
may not know even to exist. Domestic life, and 
the domestic relations, are the essential element of 
human happiness and human progress, so far as our 
moral and spiritual character are concerned. From 
the relation of the sexes springs all that gives its 
charm, its grace, its true value, to human intercourse. 
It creates the domestic circle. It gives origin to the 
sacred relation of husband and wife, parent and child, 
brother and sister, and those thousand endearing 
relations which arise from them. Strike out from 
the life of man all the hopes, interests, and motives, 
which grow out of this relation, and what were left 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 235 

him but a cheerless, a desolate, and a merely brutal 
existence ? " 

These are just and elevating views of marriage. 
How superior to those "abject and licentious doc- 
trines, destructive of the conjugal tie, which certain 
classes of infidels endeavor to spread abroad in the 
world ! Eeject, with horror and disgust, such hide- 
ous teachings ! They would degrade you to the- 
level of the brute." Indulge purer and holier opin- 
ions, and you will thus "give yourself no reason to 
blush before the chaste and faithful dove, nor degrade 
the sacred character imprinted on your brow by the 
finger of God." Your heart will give forth a pure 
affection, worthy of your exalted nature, and fit to be 
offered to the spotless maiden whose charms of heart 
and mind may attract you to her side. And remem- 
ber you cannot entertain opposite opinions without 
debasing and degrading yourself and your betrothed, 
by the intercourse implied in courtship. Neither 
can your marriage be truly "honorable," unless it 
be contracted on these scriptural and exalted prin- 
ciples. 



236 young man's counsellor. 

I 

With these opinions deeply impressed on his mjnd, 
a young man is prepared to commence a truly virtu- 
ous and elevating courtship. Accidental, spontane- 
ous and thoughtless, as first intimacies between the 
sexes are apt to be, he will nevertheless be induced 
to pause and reflect before acquaintanceship ripens 
into a positive betrothal. Looking at the true ends 
of marriage, he will inquire if the lady, towards 
whom his love is blossoming, possesses those quali- 
ties of heart and intellect which are suited to answer 
those ends. If she does not, though he may yield 
to the impulses of his passion, yet he will be far more 
likely to hesitate, before soliciting her hand in mar- 
riage, than he would be if his views were of that 
degrading nature before animadverted upon. And 
if ever caution is needed, it is here. Mistake is so 
easy. Undesigned duplicity is so natural. The 
lady, wreathed in smiles and moving with cautious 
effort to conceal defects of temper and intellect, 
acquires an almost irresistible influence over his 
feelings. The still small voice of the better judg- 
ment whispers, " Beware ! " It suggests the lack of 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 237 

one adornment, the excess of a particular defect, the 
absence of certain desirable qualities and attainments, 
in vain. The heart silences the cooler dictates of 
the mind ; the question is put, the engagement made, 
the vows exchanged, the marriage celebrated, and 
the wretched parties learn, when too late, their unfit- 
ness for each other ; and, too often, their subsequent 
life is miserable beyond description. Be careful, 
therefore, young man, at the very beginning. When 
a slight fondness arises in your heart toward any 
particular lady, hold it in check until you have time 
to discover what she is. If manifestly unfit, intellect- 
ually, morally, or socially, to be your future wife, 
stifle your affection. Seek other society. The pain 
of such a resolution will bear no comparison with 
the agony consequent upon an imprudent mar- 
riage. 

Most young men are chiefly charmed by what are 
termed accomplishments in young ladies. Thrum- 
ming a piano, working on beads or worsted, smatter- 
ing bad French, and worse Italian, are arts regarded 
by the enraptured youth with strange admiration, 



238 young man's counsellor. 

and he pronounces the lady performer a paragon of 
all perfection. But he should remember that these 
things, pleasing and even beneficial as they are in 
their place, are miserable substitutes for more solid 
and indispensable qualities. For, as Hannah More 
has well observed, " Though the arts which embellish 
life claim admiration, yet when a man of sense comes 
to marry, it is a companion he wants, and not an 
artist. It is not merely a creature who can dress 
and paint and sing ; it is a being who can comfort 
and counsel him ; one who can reason, and reflect, 
and feel, and judge, and act ; one. who can assist him 
in his affairs, soothe his sorrows, lighten his cares, 
purify his joys, and educate his children." She 
should be well versed in the household labors of 
baking, roasting, washing, cleaning and sewing; 
otherwise she is as unfit to be a wife as " a shoe- 
maker would be to navigate a man-of-war across the 
Atlanta." Therefore, 

" Take heed that what charmeth thee is real, nor springeth ot 
thine own imagination : 
And suffer not trifles to win thy love, for a wife is thine irato 
death j 



COURTSHIP AtfD MARRIAGE. 239 

The harp and voice may thrill thee, — sound may enchant thine 
ear. 

But consider thou, the hand will wither, and the sweet notes turn 
to discord ; 

The eye so brilliant at even may be red with sorrow in the morn- 
ing ; 

And the sylph-like form of elegance must writhe in the crampings 
of pain." 

Seek for substantial as well as artistical excel- 
lences in her you would make your wife. She should 
be frugal, not wasteful ; for an extravagant wife will 
bring embarrassment, if not poverty itself, into your 
habitation ; her ambition for costly dress, costly fur- 
niture, costly living, will empty your purse, ruin 
your business, introduce you to the insolvent debtor's 
court ; or, worse than all, it w r ill instal the demon of 
discontent by your fireside. She must be industri- 
ous ; for a lazy woman is always fretful, odious and 
disgusting. Who could endure a yawning, slipshod, 
sauntering, sleepy wife ? She should be grave and 
sober in her demeanor. The gay romp, the rattling, 
laughing coquette, may be very amusing at a party, 
but she is usually dull at home. The gayest and 



240 young man's counsellor. 

liveliest in society are frequently the most unhappy 
by the quiet fireside. She must be modest ; for, 
" How beautiful is modesty ! — it winneth upon all 
beholders." A young woman who will permit an 
unchaste word or hint to be uttered to her, even 
from her betrothed, or will herself give utterance to 
an impure suggestion, is unworthy of your love. 
She is an unsafe person to be admitted within the 
sacred sphere of marriage. She must be intelligent 
and sensible ; if otherwise, it will be very difficult to 
maintain that esteem for her which is the basis of 
genuine and lasting love. An ignorant, blundering 
silly woman, is sure to expose her husband to inces 
sant mortification, and to excite contempt and scorn 
in his breast towards her. She should be of a 
cheerful and an amiable disposition; since no nui- 
sance is more intolerable than a scolding, complaining, 
contentious, woman. You had better be chained to 
the galleys, or allied to the plague, than to be mar- 
ried to such a creature. And, as a final quality, your 
intended bride should possess a 'pleasing countenance, 
I do not say that she needs to be beautiful, but since 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 241 

she has to be your constant companion, there must 
be something attractive in her form and face, to 
insure the continuance of affection. Beware of a 
woman whose features express harshness, cynicism, 
surliness or sourness. Such expressions written on 
the countenance are the unerring indications of a 
mind distempered, of an unamiable disposition, of an 
unhappy heart. Therefore, avoid all such, as you 
would shun the cholera. Seek one from whose 
countenance inward loveliness beams like the soft- 
ened light from a transparent vase. 

" Affect not to despise beauty : no one is freed from its domin- 
ion ; 

But regard it not a pearl of price ; — it is fleeting as the bow in 
the clouds. 

If the character within be gentle, it often hath its index in the 
countenance — 

The soft smile of a loving face is better than splendor that 
fadeth-quickly." 

Remember that the bond of marriage is as gyves 
of brass. And, therefore, you must prefer doing vio- 
lence to your feelings, rather than to rush blindfold 
21 



242 » young man's counsellor. 

into certain misery, which can termina te only with 
the life of one of the parties. 

But, whenever you can find a lady possessing the 
characteristics I have enumerated, seek her society, 
and, if you can, win her pure affections. Such an 
association, viewed in the aspect already exhibited, 
next to religion, is the best and ' surest preserver of 
virtue in a young man. It will meet a want of his 
nature ; it will give him an object to love ; and as 
Eousseau observes, "Were I in a desert, I would find 
out wherewith in it to call forth my affections. If I 
could do no better, I would fasten them upon some 
sweet myrtle, or some melancholy cypress. I would 
love it for its shade, and greet it kindly for its protec- 
tion. I would write my name upon it, and pronounce 
it the sweetest tree in all the desert. If its leaves 
withered, I would teach myself to mourn ; and if it 
rejoiced, I would rejoice with it." 

There is much of poetry in this, but there is also 
a great truth beautifully expressed. The mind must 
have something to love, or it will prey upon itself. 
But when it finds an Dbject of sufficient worth " to 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 243 

lead it out of itself to live in and for another," then, 
it has gained its counterpart, and develops itself in a 
most pleasing and happy manner. Therefore, I say, 
seek a suitable object for your affection, though years 
may elapse before you are in a condition to marry. 
Tupper gives a reason for such a step, in his " Pro- 
verbial Philosophy." He says : 

" They that love early become like-minded, and the tempter 
toucheth them not : 
They grow up leaning on each other, as the olive and the 
vine." 

True affection, founded upon genuine esteem, 
must lie at the basis of honorable and pure marriage. 
Without such holy love in both the parties, disgust 
and wretchedness will be the baleful fruit of their 
legal alliance ; for 

" He that shuts love out, in turn shall be 
Shut out from love, and oh her threshold lie 
Howling in outer darkness." 

But even love is not the sole prerequisite of a 
nappy marriage. A young man may find it neces- 



244 young man's counsellor. 

sary to nip his affections in the bud, if the lady who 
attracts him is far above his rank in society. There 
is deep meaning in the poet's counsel, who says : 

u Be joined to thine equal in rank, or the foot of pride will kick 
at thee ; 
And look not only for riches, lest thou be mated with misery." 

If she is below your grade, providing she have 

high moral and mental qualities, her lowliness and 

poverty need not stand in the way of your affection, 

since marriage always raises or depresses the woman 

to the level of her husband. Marry not for money's 

sake. Such an union is an abomination before God, 

and a degradation to the parties. Better let your 

bride resemble the Greek maiden, who, when asked 

what fortune she should bring to her husband, nobly 

replied : 

" I will bring him what gold cannot purchase — a 
t 
heart unspotted, and virtue without a stain, which 

portion is all that descended to me from my pa- 
rents." 
Neither, if you happen to have wealth, should you 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 245 

select a bride who is more influenced by your in- 
vested moneys and flourishing business than by pure 
affection. There are women, of whom, to the dis- 
grace of their sex, it may be said, in the language of 
Byron : 

" But pomp and power alone are woman's care, 
And where these are, light Eros finds a fare ; 
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, 
And mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair." 

Shun all such creatures. You had better take a 
viper into your bosom. 

Avoid also a sceptical woman. In these days of 

ultraism and radicalism, there are many such "moral 

monsters," who, forgetful of the hope and faith we 

naturally expect from their sex, have broken loose 

from their God, from the holy Scriptures, and from 

the delicacy of woman's nature. Such unfeminine 

creatures brawl loudly against revelation, and even 

venture before the public as loquacious leaguers with 

Voltaire, Paine, and Abner Kneeland. Such women 

are unfit for marriage. If they respect not the claims 

of God, nor heed the bonds which bind them to relig 
21* 



246 young man's counsellor. 

ion, how can they be expected to be faithful to the 
law which binds them to a husband ? Impossible ! 
infidel men have understood this. Hence, Lord 
Chesterfield counselled his son to marry a woman 
of pious tendencies ; and Dr. Brainard mentions a 
very profane man, who expressed joy that he was 
not "to be linked to a female infidel," whom he 
heard question the truth of the Bible. These men, 
bad as they were in other respects, were right in 
their opinion of the unfitness of a sceptical woman to 
be a wife. Do you take heed, my young friend, and 
keep your affections free from such. Celibacy is far 
better than wedlock at the altar of infidelity. 

Be not in haste to wed. While early marriages 
are to be encouraged, if circumstances are favorable, 
it is the height of folly, and often the first step to a 
long career of bitterness, for parties to marry without 
any reasonable prospect of comfortable support. 

" Marry not without means ; for so shouldst thou tempt Provi- 
dence ; 
But wait not for more than enough ; for marriage is the duty 
of most men." 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 247 

This is excellent counsel. A young man should 
wait until his income is sufficient, his business estab- 
lished, his resources somewhat certain. Marriage 
brings with it many expenses, and these increase 
with time; and a marriage without means will sure- 
ly bring poverty and sorrow. Affection is a poor 
banker, a miserable purveyor, a wretched landlord. 
With limited means it may do well, since it stimu- 
lates industry, excites energy, and can invent many 
innocent devices to compel small resources to supply 
large wants. Prudence must be allowed to utter its 
cautions in this matter; and if you are prudent, 
young man, you shall do well. 

In courtship, a young man should be stable. A 
marriage engagement is a solemn and a serious 
affair. It takes a deep hold on the heart of a young 
woman. Her first love is a holy thing. It becomes 
life and gladness to her spirit. But, 

H If the love of the heart is blighted, it buddeth not again : 
If that pleasant song is forgotten, it is to be learnt no more ; 
Yet often will thought look back, and weep over early affection e 
And the dim notes of that pleasant song will be heard as a 
reproachful spirit, 



248 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

Moaning in iEolian strains over the desert of the heart, 

When the hot siroccos of the world have withered its one oasis." 

If these affecting lines are true to experience, what 
shall be said of a young man who sedulously seeks 
a young girl's love, until, in her trustful simplicity, 
she yields him her whole heart, and looks up to 
him as the future companion of her life, and then, 
through sheer fickleness, abandons her for another ? 
Is he not cruel, heartless, and false ? Does he not 
inflict a deadly wound on her spirit, from which 
she may never wholly recover? Does he not de- 
serve the severest reprehension ? He does : and, 
be assured, that no young man can be guilty of 
such reckless trifling with the female heart, with- 
out being subsequently visited by the retributions of 
an avenging Providence. His sin will "find him 
out:' 

But what, it his first promises were prematurely 
given, and further acquaintance convinces him that 
the lady's ill qualities are such as will certainly em- 
bitter his life, in the event of marriage ? Is he then 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 249 

to consummate his courtship, and enter with open 
eyes upon an " ill assorted" union ? 

To this I answer, certainly not, providing there 
is a discovery of positive unfitness, and not a mere 
excuse for instability. The parties had better suffer 
the pang of separation during courtship, than to be 
yoked to a heritage of misery and sorrow for life. 
But, beware lest mere fickleness leads you to imag- 
ine faults merely to furnish an excuse for the viola- 
tion of your engagement ! Prefer to keep your 
promise unbroken, if it be at all consistent with your 
hopes of happiness. The true remedy for such sepa- 
rations is prevention. Let your first advances be 
sufficiently cautious to enable you to judge of the 
lady's charaoter before you enter on more familiar 
intercourse. And another means is to treat your 
courtship as a serious part of your conduct. Carry 
it on in a manner consistent with the high purposes 
of marriage. Not with silly gigglings and idle com- 
monplaces. Seek to cultivate each other's tastes, to 
call forth ideas and modes of thought hitherto unde- 
veloped. Aim to produce a spiritual union between 



250 young man's counsellor. 

yourselves. By this means the little things which 
usually separate betrothed parties will not disturb 
your intercourse. You will be satisfied with each 
other, and fitted for the more intimate and sacred 
unity of the marriage state. 

Against one disgusting practice, but too popular in 
many parts of the country, allow me to earnestly 
counsel you. I mean the habit of sitting up to a 
late hour of the night with your betrothed. While 
there cannot be one reason urged in defence of this 
unchristian custom, there are serious objections 
against it. It injures health ; it unfits for the duties 
of the next day; it has an impure aspect, and is 
a temptation to virtue. By all the decencies and 
proprieties of life, I beg you, young man, to have 
self-respect sufficient to set yourself heartily against 
it. Let your intercourse take place at proper hours, 
and under circumstances which favor you and 
yours in acquiring an affinity of tastes and opin- 
ions. 

I cannot, perhaps, close this chapter, on courtship 
and marriage, more profitably than by giving the 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 251 

eccentric and celebrated William Cobbett's account 
of his courtship. He was a sergeant-major in a 
British regiment of foot, serving in Canada, when he 
first met the lady who afterwards became his wife. 
She was the daughter of a sergeant of artillery, so 
that in rank they were pretty equally matched. He 
first met her in company, and was forcibly struck 
with the beauty of her countenance, and the marked 
propriety of her behavior. He resolved to note her 
conduct, and to study her character. A few morn- 
ings after this first introduction, he took occasion to 
walk, with one or two companions, past her father's 
house. Although it was scarcely light, he saw her 
at the door, cheerfully scrubbing out a wash-tub on 
the snow. This confirmed his good opinion. Fur- 
ther observation being still more in her favor, he 
made up his mind that she should be his wife at a 
proper time. This purpose he never dreamed of 
changing. It was settled in his mind, and he treated 
her accordingly. Her father's regiment being ordered 
to England, it was necessary for them to be separated. 
To show the fixedness of his purpose, and the conn- 



252 young man's counsellor. 

dence he had in her affection, he gave her the entire 
amount of his savings, — six hundred and fifty dol- 
lars, — bidding her use it, if necessary for her per- 
sonal comfort, before his arrival in England. This 
confidence was not misplaced. Though over four 
years elapsed before she saw him again, and she had 
to work hard, as a house-servant, for a living, yet 
she remained true to her vows, and returned him 
every dollar of the money he had placed in her 
hands. He married her, and attributed much of 
his signal success in life to her very excellent qual- 
ities. 

But notwithstanding Mr. Cobbett's fidelity to his 
first promise of marriage, he narrowly escaped the 
guilt of its violation. His betrothed had been absent 
two years. He was rambling in the woods of New 
Brunswick, when he stumbled upon a clearing, with 
a farmer who offered him the hospitalities of his 
home. This sturdy backwoodsman had a daughter, 
aged nineteen — a finely formed, blue-eyed girl, with 
long, light-brown hair. Young Cobbett was charmed. 
He repeatedly visited the place, mingled in the par- 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 253 

ties and merrymakings of the homestead ; and, not- 
withstanding he felt conscious of being attracted by 
the young lady, and that she was also becoming 
interested in him, persisted to visit her, until the 
idea of parting grew exceedingly painful to both. 
Happily, his sense of obligation was strong ; and, 
wrong as he was in placing himself within the sphere 
of temptation, and in trifling with the affections of 
another, he remained faithful to his first vows. This 
wrong of indulging in the society of the lady of the 
w T oods he very ingenuously confesses, and bids others 
act more wisely and cautiously, lest they* should lack 
the self-control which finally saved him from becom- 
ing a covenant-breaker. I join my counsel to his, 
and advise every young man, first, to exercise due 
caution before making a marriage engagement; 
secondly, having made it, to consider it inviolable, 
except under very extraordinary circumstances ; 
thirdly, to defer his marriage until, in the opinions 
of his parents or judicious friends, the suitable time 

has arrived ; and, finally, to enter the marriage 
22 



254 YOUNG man's counsellor. 

state with pure, spiritual, and holy views, that it 
be a real blessing to him and his bride in both 
worlds.^ 



CONCLUDING NOTE. 

And now, dear young friend, I must bid you adieu. 
I have urged the practice of great principles upon 
your understanding and heart, that you may win the 
prize of a happy and successful life. I have stimu- 
lated you to be eminent in your profession, by the 
due observance of the great and holy truths revealed 
in the Divine Word. Not that I consider success in 
this life to be the end of your existence. No ! To 
glorify God, to attain His moral likeness, to diffuse 
enjoyment among your fellow-creatures, — these are 
the grand aims of human life. But in reaching 
these aims — in grasping the greater — you will more 
surely reach the lesser than by any other method ; 
for, religion is the good genius of both worlds. This 

*For Counsels to the Married, see a recent work by the author, 
entitled " Bridal Greetings," &c. 



COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 255 

idea I have endeavored to illustrate in the preceding 
pages. Let me entreat you to seize it heartily and 
earnestly ! Let it blend with all your thinkings. 
Allow it to mould your character, to govern your 
conduct. Thus will you rise to usefulness and 
enjoyment on earth, and to a place in that moral 
firmament where the wise and good " shall shine 
as the stars for ever and ever." 



FINIS 



Books Published and for sale by Lane & Scott. 



THE YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELLOR, •/ 

Or, Sketches and Illustrations of the Duties and Dangers of 
Young Men. By Rev. Daniel Wise. Sixth edition. Price 
62 cents. 

notices. 

"This is a superior book. Every young man ought to have some 
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u One of the most readable, sprightly, and attractive of books for 
young men." — Daily Evening Traveller. 

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and Journal. 

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THE PATH OF LIFE, J 

Or, Sketches of the Way to Glory and Immortality. By Rev. D. 

Wise. Cloth, 50 cents ; cloth gilt, 75. 

"We do not know a book, — saving the Holy Scriptures. — more 
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tian Advocate. 



BRIDAL GREETINGS: 

A Marriage Gift, in which the mutual duties of husband and wife 
are familiarly illustrated and enforced. By Rev. D. Wise. 30 
cents. 
" If any one has a friend about to be married, we advise him to 

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Protestant. 

M. 

In preparation — THE GIRL'S COUNSELLOR,, by the same 
Author. 

Also, REVIVAL MISCELLANIES, ^by Rev. J. Caughey. Ed- 
ited by Rev. D. Wise and Rev. R. W. Allen. A work of more 
value than his very popular history of his revival labors. 



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